Don't Let Me Fall
by Hlbur14
Summary: Claudia Thatcher is broken. After blaming herself for the death of her parents', she is now a hollow shell and unreachable to the ones who care for her. Her relationship with her sister has hit rock bottom, so she lives a strained life that she can't escape. But when a certain local hero comes into her life, she becomes even more spiteful. Can Peter Parker fix what's broken?
1. Prologue

**As a little girl, Claudia Thatcher had been bright, her life set out ready for her. She had loving parents, and a sister who was her best friend. Up until she was sixteen, everything was perfect. Until the month of September. Now, she has no parents, a sister who doesn't know how to fix what's broken, and a future brother-in-law whom she despises. Her life has been destroyed in the blink of an eye, and she has no energy to fix the shattered. As far as she's concerned, life isn't worth living. **

**But, six months after the loss of her parents, her life is yet to take another turn, for better and for worse. She learns what the meaning of life is, but along the way, she also learns the true reality of the world she lives in. **

**And she has one rule: Trust no one but yourself.**

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**I'm new to the world of Spider-man. I have only ever watched the movies, and am looking forward to the new one. I decided to take a bash at a fanfic for it, but I am so sorry if it's not completely correct. Please read, I hope you enjoy it :)**

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Fear. Every one of us feels it. Whether it be the fear of insects, darkness, loneliness, the breakage of a friendship of relationship. No matter how strong we are, how accomplished we are, fear is always our downfall. And fear leaves behind consequences. Terrible consequences. It did for me. But what should everyone be afraid of? The bully at school? The build up to the drop on a rollercoaster? That dog that always barks and makes you jump out of your skin? Or is it the stories of ghosts, demons and Hell itself? No one should be afraid of those. The real fear, the real enemy in our lives, is the human race itself.

Violent, murderous, selfish. The creators of the atomic bombs, the ones who relish the idea of war, the species who will no doubt end the world. We kill one another, hurt one another. We tell lies, keep secrets, make bad choices. Not a single one of us is a saint. We are all guilty. You. Me. Our families and friends. That old man across the road, and that kid on the bike with the dog. The only time we are innocent is when we cannot think, before we can talk.

But it is fear that defines us, makes us who we are. We rebel against it, try to be stronger. If you are frightened of a bug, you kill it. If you were bullied, you turn into a bully. If you feel threatened, you retaliate. We can't escape the reality of fear. And we also can't escape the consequences that follow. They say that if you kill a spider, you get bad luck. When you bully someone, everyone hates you. When you react to a threat, violence ensues.

I reacted wrongly. I froze, and they died. That was my consequence.

Now everyone is my enemy. Every human is the bad guy. That old man across the road, that kid on the bike with the dog. They were all my enemies. I hated them all. But not as much as I hated myself. I could have saved them, but I let fear get in the way. I could have done something to help, but my stupidity had them killed. And it was humans that killed them. Men, disgusting, selfish men. Monsters. I hated men the most.

Greif, nightmares and death left me damaged. Empty. Unloving, uncaring, unreachable. A hollow shell of hate and despair. That was another problem with the human race. We reflected our emotions. When happy, we smiled and laughed. When sad, we moaned and cried. But when left feeling only hate, you _showed _your hate. Insults, violence. Some, however, showed it through silence, others through illegal art. I was all of the above. I was an introvert, and outsider, a hater. I trusted no one, not even myself. My foolishness left me angry, and that opened up a world in my head I never knew existed.

I pushed everyone away. I locked myself in my room, shot my music up so that it shook the floor beneath my feet. I snuck out of the house to vandalize some of the alley walls, to show my hate to the world. I shouted insults at random strangers and started fights at school. I loved the violence, the pain I conflicted on others mentally and physically. It made me feel strong, unbreakable, everything I should have felt six months prior.

But then _he _came along. The man who went around running from the law but saving the lives of 'innocents'. The man who never showed his face, who never lingered. The man who swung from web lines, crawled on walls and showed every criminal who owned the city. I had hated him, too. He never came to help us, not when we needed him. I let them die, and he never showed. I resented him for that. But he ignored my hate, my anger, and pushed his way into my life. He caught me in his web, refusing to let me go until he ate all the spite out of my soul. For some ungodly reason, he believed in me, even when I didn't. In my mind, he was more like a cockroach: he never went away, completely indestructible.

You know who I'm talking about. The guy in the skin tight suit covered in web patterns, a blur of blue and red falling between skyscrapers, and the eyes that pierced your heart and soul. The man who never gave up, even when everything seemed useless. Like me, a lost soul. He never gave up on us, the species who caused so much damage to the world. But who said _he _was a saint?

My name is Claudia Thatcher. I live with my older sister and her fiancé, and am in my last year of school. I am sixteen years old, with no parents, because I'm the reason they're dead. I thought I was always to be hollow and unloved, hated by many for my hostile ways. But then I got caught in a web. Literally. And nothing was ever the same again.

This is my story of how Spiderman never let me fall.

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**Don't forget to review :)**


	2. End It

**Sorry for any mistakes made, enjoy :)**

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I stepped back and admired my work. _Hate Is Bliss. _That was what I wrote in the most darkest format I could manage. Sharp letters, the red paint seeming to look like blood as it dripped down the brick wall. Sinister. That was the look I had been after. Sharp, dark, to the point. Smiling, I pulled my hood over my head and slipped into the street, mingling with the thin crowd. I stiffed my hands in my pockets, but not before tossing the empty spray paint can into the trash. I was getting better at written art, but I was also getting better at getting away with it.

Even in the crowd and under the lights, I remained a shadow. It was midnight, but of course the city wasn't asleep. Lights blinked and flashed and beamed brightly, blinding and comforting at the same time. But my black hoody, black skinny jeans and black shoes left me as merely a dark figure moving through the crowd. I hated walking along side others. I hated how their arms brushed against mine, even if it was unintentional. They had no right to touch me.

Someone shoved me, a man in a business suit. I shoved him back, pushing him into a couple holding hands.

"Watch it!" I shouted.

"Whoa, take it easy!" he said, his voice annoyed. He came towards me, and my hands slammed into his chest. He fell to the ground, and I slunk back into the crowd, people now parting in my wake. Power, accomplishment. Respect from vermin. I smiled to myself, liking that idea just as much as it disgusted me. At least, for a short, relishing moment, they stopped touching me.

It was a short walk home, to the crappy apartment owned by my waste of time sister, Martha, and her fiancé, Rick Hammond. Martha, a twenty two year old blonde, had had no choice but to take me under her wing. She was a fake. She pretended to be perfect and innocent, looked like a Barbie doll. But on the inside, all she wanted was Rick's money. He had lots of it. Luckily, we shared no resemblance, linked only by blood. She was blonde, I was a brunette. She was taller than average, I was smaller than average. She was plastic, I was pure. And then there was Rick. I had nothing to say about him. He hated me, I hated him. End of story.

I climbed the stairs to the second floor of our apartment building, striding down the hall like a kid who may carry a knife. Intimidating, strong, not to be messed with. Damn right. I reached door number _20_ and swung it open, stepping in and slamming it shut behind me. Martha jumped from her place on the sofa, walking over.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded angrily, her blue eyes on fire. I smiled.

"Why do you care, sis?" I said quietly.

"I said to come home at ten o'clock sharp. It's now past midnight!"

"Stop playing the mother act, you suck at it." I shoved past her, walking through the living space, turning right and into the kitchen. I opened the fridge, groaned at its bareness, and shut it again.

"You know what? When you get raped or stabbed or beaten up, don't expect me to care!" Martha shouted, and I laughed.

"Told you that you suck at it." I told her, leaning my back against the fridge. She stood at the edge of the small kitchen, her body trembling with anger. She hated the fact that she had no control over me. She had control over Rick and her friends, but not me. Not the damaged freak she had as a sister. "Where's all the food?"

"You can starve." She spat.

"Charming. Move it." I shoved past her, slamming my shoulder into hers and making her stumble slightly. A small _oof_ came from her lips. I fell into the cushions of the sofa, grabbing the control and switching on the TV. The channel was showing some sort of horror film, blood and gore all in its glory. Suddenly, the screen went black, and I looked across to see that Martha had pulled the plug. She glared daggers at me, crossing her arms somewhat stubbornly. I simply grinned, getting up and walking into my room. The door slammed shut, and I fell into the comfort of my bed.

I listened as Martha kicked something in the main room, hearing a large _crash _in the process. I smiled. She always did that, but I preferred it when I started the rows between her and Rick. Loud, voices full of anguish, bellowing everything that I felt inside. They always fought about me, Rick often storming out and not coming back until the next morning. Then I'd listen to Martha weep, collapsed on the other side of my door, silently wishing that I never showed up in her little love fantasy. There was one thing I envied about her, which was the fact that she handled mom and dad's death with an open mind. She grieved, she recovered, she tried to move on. But she never anticipated my pain, my inner torment. And slowly, as each month went by, she slowly lost her mind.

I got up from the bed and went to the door, sliding down it before collapsing on the floor. I pushed my hood down, running a hand through my knotted hair. I pressed my ear to the wood, straining to listen. Martha was crying, not far away from my door. I closed my eyes. Then I heard mumbling, and I realised she was murmuring to me.

"I don't know what you want me to do, Claudia." She said, her voice barely reaching my ears. _There's nothing you can do. _"It's been six months. What can I do to make things easier?" _Nothing, there is nothing you can do! _I remained silent, curling into a ball on the floor. I'd be lying if I said I never felt guilty for doing these things to her, ruining her once perfect little life. Once upon a time, me and Martha had been closer than best friends. I used to tell her everything, seek comfort from her after a bad day, go out to the cinema with her because we had nothing better to do. I'd loved her with every ounce of my being, and I would have done anything for her. But then Rick came along, and she drifted away from me, from us. She moved in with him a year and a half into the relationship, and that was part of the reason I hated Rick. He stole away my best friend, and she was never the same. She changed for him, pretended to be someone she wasn't. A fake. I liar. But back then, it had only been a grudge, not pure hate. And then, a year after she left, mom and dad died.

The first month consisted on nothing but silence. I locked myself in my room and cried until I felt drained, and I refused to let her console me. If she ever came in, I screamed, so she had no choice but to leave me be. I only ever came out for bathroom breaks, food and water, never uttering a word to her. And then, after that first month, I came out and started talking to her, but nothing nice came from my mouth. Accusations of not loving me, verbal abuse, sometimes physical violence. Rick would step in, and when he would touch me, I flipped. I'd go blind with rage, and the following events would turn out nasty. I had hurt Rick so many times, cut open his skin with my nails, left bruises on his face. But I was never left feeling guilty about hurting him.

I heard a door click shut, and I knew that Martha had gone to her room. It occurred to be that Rick wasn't in the apartment, so I assumed they must have had another argument. What a shame.

Looking through the gloom of my room, my eyes landed on the photo by my bedside. I crawled along the floor, reaching up and taking the frame where the photo had been placed. I stared at mom and dad, Martha and myself, the photo from three years ago. We were at the beach, Martha's blonde hair soaked, wearing her pink bikini. She wore a radiant smile, one that was now completely dead. She had her arm around my bare shoulders, and I was grinning, lifting up the brim of my hat to look at the camera. Behind me was mom, mid laugh, her beautiful face bright with happiness. I looked just like her. Brown hair that flowed in tight coils, reaching way past the shoulders. Eyes the colour of the ocean, skin as fair as snow. Slim and slender. Martha was like dad, who was grinning in mom's direction, his strong arm around her. Brilliant blonde hair, strong face, stunning baby blue eyes. He was a head and a half taller than mom, hence Martha being on the taller side. But every time I looked at that photo, nothing but horror enveloped my mind.

How did they die, you ask? A mugging gone wrong, I guess. I remembered it so vividly, as if it had literally just happened. The city had just fallen into night, and we were walking home from the grocery store. Me, mom and dad. I had the joys of carrying the bags, one in each hand, while dad carried the third. We'd been laughing and joking, none the wiser. We always had to turn a corner, down a dark alley to get to our apartment building. We had gone through that alley so many times, and it had always seemed so safe. But not that night.

Running. Screaming. Gunshots. Blood.

I shook my head, ridding the images that still haunted me. Gently, I placed the photo back where it belonged, and I clambered to my feet. Like always, I felt empty, drained, falling into a black hole of nothing. I couldn't do it anymore. I wanted the pain to go away. I wanted Martha's suffering to stop. I wanted out. My time was over.

I went over to my window, shoving it up. Tugging the hood back over my head, I climbed out onto the fire escape and looked up. It was a five story building, but if it meant I could escape the torment, it would be worth the climb. So I began to climb. Up. Up. Closer to the end. Heading for the heavens. I practically ran up, desperate to escape. No more pain. No more torment. No more emptiness.

When I reached the top, I flung myself through the door of the top floor. I raced through the corridor, finally reaching the door to the roof. I ran through, thrust back into the cool air of the night. I let the sounds of cars deafen me, inhaled the smells of wastage, tasting the cool air. It was colder up here, high up with now walls to keep the breeze at bay. Open, spacious, the end. Slowly, I walked forwards, towards the perimeter of the building. I stepped up, the image from titanic suddenly framing my mind. Not the part with Rose was with Jack, arms out, feeling the sensation of flying, but before that. The part where she wanted to die.

I looked down, spreading my arms slightly for balance. Slowly does it. Savour the moment. Below were parked up cars, abandoned and just waiting to be used the following day. Someone was going to be in for a treat in the morning. A dead girl on the roof of their car. I could even picture the headlines on the news. _Suicidal Girl Found Behind Apartment Building. _They'd have a field day.

I closed my eyes, feeling my heart beginning to beat erratically. My skin prickled with nerves, my toes coiling up in my shoes. Steadily, I turned, facing the door that had got be here. My let my breaths fall heavily from my lips.

One... two... three.

I rolled on the balls of my feet, and I fell from the building.

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**A glimpse of Spidey will come in the next chapter :) Review! **


	3. Encounter

**Again, sorry for any spelling mistakes and what not. :)**

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I fell through the air, the whole experience feeling like I was on a rollercoaster. My heart was in my throat, my stomach doing somersaults. I felt weightless, just as I should have done. Hollow, empty, I should have weighed lighter than a feather. I couldn't wait for the ride to end, for everything to end. I could feel the ground getting closer, and the impact couldn't come quick enough. But it never came.

I gasped when my back hit the surface, but my body didn't shatter. My mind didn't stop thinking. My heart was still pounding. What? No, no, no! Why wasn't I dead? Why wasn't it over? Why was I still _alive? _I was on something springy, like a mattress. But it was uncomfortable and... sticky. What the hell?

"It's not your time yet, kid." A voice said, young and close. Who was that? why wasn't I dead? I began to squirm, trying to stand, but my foot fell through a hole in the surface I had landed on. I yelped, trying to free my foot. And then I realized where I sat, and I thought that my heart would choke me. A giant web, strong and stick and... safe. No. No!

Suddenly, the web began to bounce again, carrying a new weight alongside my own. I let out a frightened squeak, searching for the perpetrator. My foot tore the web slightly, and when I turned my head I nearly screamed. All I could see was eyes. White, glaring eyes that belonged to some kind of monster. They stared at me, and I saw myself within the white lenses. Frightened, mouth agape, ready to scream. Then they tilted, moving with what must him been the perpetrator cocking his head.

"Get away from me!" I yelled.

"Shh, you'll wake the neighbours." He said, his voice somehow mocking. Then I realized. My voice had barely been above a whisper. I let out a strangled sob, scrambling across the web and away from the perpetrator. I tumbled over, falling to the ground with a slight grunt of pain. I was vaguely aware of hearing a somewhat _hiss, _but it wasn't something a human would make. Something artificial. The next thing I knew, an arm was around my waist and I was flying through the air.

"Let go of me, you creep!" and then all realization dawned on me. Spiderman...

Before I knew it, I was back on the roof of my apartment building, back on my own two feet. I wobbled, tumbled, and collapsed to the floor. My mind had turned to mush, my vision blurred. Where was he? Where was he?

"Take it easy, kid." Came that voice, softer this time. "Breathe." Where was he? Where was he? I closed my eyes, and I thought I began to hyperventilate. I placed my head between my knees, breathing in deeply, trying to get a grip of myself.

"Why did you do that?" I sobbed. "Why did you _stop _me?" For all I knew, I was sitting there on my own, rocking like a mad person talking to myself. But he was there. I could feel him, feel his eyes boring into me.

"It's not your time." He told me, for the second time. I wept. Was this pain ever going to go away? Anger filled me, and I reached my climax. How _dare _he do that! How _dare_ he stop me from ending it all! He had no right!

"What gave you the right to _save _me?" I yelled, leaping to my feet, my heading spinning. Rage, hotter than fire, scorching under my skin. He could save me _now, _when I wanted to die, but six months ago, he never bothered to show? Were they not _good enough to save? _And suddenly, he was in front of me, crouched on the floor and looking up at me. His limbs were spread, like a spider's.

"Where were you six months ago, huh? Where were you then?" I was screaming, clenching my hair in my fists, trembling in fury. But he remained silent, unfazed, his mask and body hiding any trace of emotion. "Get lost!" I shrieked. "Go, and never come back!" He stayed put. "_GO!" _

I ran then. I ran for the door, throwing myself through it, momentarily thinking it would come off its hinges. I flew down the corridor, running for the fire escape door. Once I reached the fire escape, I wept again. Tears streamed down my face, my body shaking with despair, anger and pain. I should have been dead now! I shouldn't have been here! But I was so worked up, so hyped up that I couldn't bring myself to jump from the fire escape. There was no end to the pain, no end! And he... he had the nerve to show up and take away any hope I had! He was supposed to be a hero, and here I was, continuing to drown in grief.

I must have completely lost it after that. I woke up the following morning in my bed, and I sincerely hoped that the previous night had all been a dream. For the briefest of moments, I thought it had been. Just a dream. But the anger had felt too real, fresher than normal. It hadn't been a dream. My life was never that simple. I wondered how I came to be in my bed, and I thought that maybe, in the blindness, I had dragged myself back. Feasible. I settled with that idea. Part of me hoped that the Web Head was long gone, taking the hint to leave me alone. After all, there were people out there who actually _needed _him. Not that anyone deserved it.

What day was is? Ah, Saturday, no school. Thank god. I could go out on the streets, create more art, maybe smash a few windows. I had a lot of anger left in me, but now it was under control. For now, anyway. I kicked back the covers. I was still in my jeans and hoody, but I had no complaint. I got up, stretched, and slouched my way out of the room. Martha was at the door, mumbling something to someone on the other side. I frowned. We never had visitors. Ever.

"Thanks again, Mr Parker." She murmured. Parker? Who the hell was Parker?

"No problem." The voice sounding innocent, childlike, but it had a hint of shyness to it. I went to stand behind Martha, who jumped out of her skin when she realized I had approached. This Parker stood on the other side of the door somewhat awkwardly, his head lowered, his stance slouched. He had a lazy touch to him, somehow. His hair was brown, styled somewhat wildly on his head, and his face was rather attractive, along with a very lean body.

"Who are you?" I said, my voice groggy and rude. He only smiled.

"Peter Parker, we go the same school." The same school? Midtown High?

"I've never seen you before." I said, annoyed.

"Because you're always hiding behind that hood." He smirked, then looked back to Martha.

"Thanks again." she murmured, about to close the door.

"Any time. Goodbye Martha... Claudia." I cringed, hating him for saying my name. Martha closed the door and turned on me.

"What were you doing on the fire escape last night?" she demanded, her voice harsh. I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I turned away, heading for my room again. "Claudia!" she snapped. I froze, heart pumping rapidly. For the first time ever, she had the sound of mom in her voice. "What were you doing on the fire escape last night?" she repeated, her voice now stone cold.

"Nothing." I muttered.

"You were unconscious! Peter had to carry you home!" Carry me home? How had he found me?

"I wanted some fresh air." I said, strolling stiffly into the kitchen.

"Fresh air." She muttered, laughing under her breath. "Whatever. I'm going out, back later." She grabbed her bag and coat from the handles on the door, and left without another word. I rolled my eyes. She should have known better than to ask me why I was on the fire escape. I never told her anything anymore. Grabbing a bowl of milk and cereal, I settled down on the sofa, watching whatever crap was on TV. Then I heard something slip under the door. Looking over the back of the sofa, I saw a white sheet on the floor by the door, large writing sprawled on it. Frowning, I set my bowl on the floor and walked over, picking it up.

_It wasn't your fault. _

I stared at it, stared some more, and then I stared again. I realized I had been holding my breath, and so I yanked the door open, poking my head out. I looked left and right, but no one was there, and I was left with a sinking feeling in my chest.

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**By the way, I've used the appearance of Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker :) Review! **


	4. Parker

**Next chapter! :D Please enjoy and review! **

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I didn't stay in the apartment for long. I threw away my cereal, switched into fresh jeans and a blue hoody, and then raced for the door. I very nearly forgot to lock it, but went I did I nearly broke the key. I needed to get out of there. I needed air, to think. Who had given me that note? Why had they sent it? Where were they now? Whoever it was, I wanted to beat the crap out of them! Why was my personal life any business to them? I hated people like that, the ones who always wanted to get involved. They needed to learn on how to mind their own business.

I flew down the four flights of stairs, barging past a couple of girls at the door way. They squealed in protest, complaining loudly. I ignored them, racing out into the streets and through the busy crowds of people. Noise, so much noise. Voices, cars, opening and shutting doors, footsteps. And then there were so many smells. Sweat, food, petrol. Get away, get away!

I fled down an alley, my foot landing into a puddle, the splash echoing from the walls. I ignored the cold liquid the flood into my shoe, leaping onto the fire escape of one of the buildings. That was one of the main things I had discovered over the last six months. When you were high up and far away from below, you could actually think. Nothing seemed to matter, not when the breeze was in your hair, the noise was kept to a minimum, and your body felt weightless. The freedom of being at peace was like a drug. If I wasn't vandalizing, abusing, screaming or running, I was on a rooftop somewhere, listening to the quiet whistle of the wind. Up here, nothing could ever reach me. Up here, I could drown at peace.

I dangled my legs over the perimeter, not intending to jump, just admire the damned view of New York. The city full of the wrong doers, the vermin, the pathetic. Like me. Everyone here was damaged in their own way. Every tourist was an idiot for being here. Damn them all. Sometimes, I wished I could stay up on the building rooftops and watch the birds, and sometimes I wished I could reach up and touch the clouds. Weightless, protected, away from the wrongness of the world. Untouchable.

"Don't jump." Came a quiet voice behind me, and I fell backwards, away from the perimeter. A hand landed on my shoulder, another on my arm, and I was gently hoisted to my feet. I flinched out of the touch, glaring at whoever dared interrupt me. My mouth fell open.

Peter Parker was at my side, arms ready to steady me, a backpack on his back. He also had a skateboard between his legs, trapped between his knees. He was scrawnier than I thought, wearing battered converse shoes, skinny jeans, a basic shirt and a brown jacket with a large hood. His smile was shy, but his eyes glinted with somewhat mischief. All the more reason not to trust him.

"Didn't mean to scare you." he said, his voice light.

"Did you follow me?" I demanded, clenching my fists at my sides. He laughed.

"Why would I follow you?" he asked.

"To make sure I didn't jump." I snapped, and I barged past him. My arm slammed forcefully into his, but I think _my _body shook more than his. I ground my teeth. How could someone so thin be so... solid?

"So... why were you on the fire escape last night?" he asked casually, his steps falling into pace with mine as I strode back towards the fire escape on the current building.

"Not of your business."

"I think it is. I carried you home, remember?"

"I never asked you to! Leave me alone!" I froze for a moment, thinking. "Did you post a note under my door?"

He frowned, and it was convincing. "What note?"

"Forget it." I jumped down onto the fire escape. I was about to climb down when I saw Parker looking into the distance, his body sagging as he sighed. I found myself suddenly transfixed. The sun shone behind him, still rising as it was only in the early half of the morning, and I could only see his silhouette. Lean, powerful, deceiving. Standing tall and wide, hair gently moving with the breeze. And then he looked at me, his head blocking the sun, and I remembered what monster he really was, just like any other human being. I continued my descent.

"Well, if you're not exactly talkative, I might as well not waste my time." He said, and then he jumped, landing two flights below me. I gaped down at him. How was that possible? Had he not hurt his ankle or something? He looked up and grinned, and then outstretched his hand. I shook my head and screw my face up at him, and then climbed back onto the roof.

"It can get lonely up there, you know!" he called, but made no effort to come after me. _I'd rather be lonely. _A couple seconds later, I heard the clang of a skateboard hitting the pavement, and I peered over the perimeter and watched as he rolled away down the alley. Good riddance.

I stayed up on that roof for a long time, long into the evening. I watched as the sun faded into the distance, the clouds turning deep shades of oranges and reds in the process. I suppose that was the only thing I considered beautiful. Sunsets. The end of a day, the beginning of the night. The borderline of what was safe and what was dangerous.

I didn't want to go home. I wanted to stay here all night long, watch the stars twinkle in the night. They were also beautiful, I suppose, but they showed at inconvenient times. Darkness was when danger occurred. Something beautiful should occur during dangerous periods of time.

In the distance, I heard police sirens. They were a constant noise in the city, so much so that they gave you a headache. Not that they were any use. The police spent more time chasing criminals rather than catching them. They never caught my parents' killers. That was what I could give Spiderman credit for. He caught the bad guys. But I could never forgive him for not showing up that night, for not helping us.

Dreamily, I watched the birds fly in the gleam of the setting sun. No natural, so perfect. I would have given anything to be a part of that freedom, to feel the wind in my face, the experience of flying. Closing my eyes, I breathed in the cool air, chilling my insides with a certain satisfaction. I recalled how my fingers had turned numb, so I pulled my sleeves down for warmth. Maybe I should be getting home, no matter how resented I felt there.

Back to the pain.

Sighing, I got back to my feet and in five minutes on was walking back to my apartment building. I stared at my feet, ignoring the people around me just like normal. They were nothing, just obstacles always in the way. It didn't matter if I knocked a few out of the way.

"Look! There he is!" someone yelled, voice excited. A moment later and cheering erupted. Looking up through my lashes, I spotted the silhouette of the one and only. I ground my teeth in anger, watching as he swung away into the distance, vanishing round the corner of a skyscraper. I shook my head to myself in disgust. Why couldn't these people see that he was just another freak? Someone who couldn't mind his own damn business. He was no hero, just a pest, like the rest of them.

Screw them all.

At half eight on Monday morning, I woke with a groan of annoyance. Great, school. For god's sake! Kicking back the covered, I got dressed in the usual and stormed out of the apartment. Martha would have already left, for she worked at a breakfast cafe around the corner. She normally left at around eight in the morning.

Catching the bus just down the road, I found a seat near the back and placed in my ear phone, boosting my IPod to full volume. The bus was full after a few stops, full of chatty students awaiting the start of another week. But no one sat by me. They knew better. In all honestly, no one gave me a second look, knowing that I would only snap if they did. I smiled to myself, remembering the first time some tried to start a conversation. Some geeky girl with short messy hair and a relatively attractive face.

"What did you do on the weekend?" she'd asked in a sing-song voice. I'd looked up and gave her the most threatening look I could manage.

"Mine your own damn business." I'd snarled. I'd heard a few chants of a cat fight, mainly from the guys, and I recalled thinking that they were all as pathetic as they could get.

"I was only trying to start a-"

"I'd rather kill myself than speak to you." end of conversation. No one ever approached me again. Thank god.

Once the bus pulled into the grounds of school, I strolled into the building and yanked out my earphones. Another day in this hell hole, great! And to top it off, I had the joys of Biology first lesson. In my head I smacked my head against a wall. Reaching the lockers, I entered my code and took out my notebook and pen from my bag before slamming the door shut. Behind it stood Parker, leaning casually against the lockers. I blanked him.

"Thought we could walk to class together." he said, a smile in his voice.

"Stick it." I moved past him, avoiding his shoulder this time. Again, he fell into step with him, his hands in his pockets and his walk somehow lazy. _Why wouldn't he leave me alone? _I found myself a little rocked off course, confused by this sudden boy's approach. No one in the right mind ever approached me, knowing better of it. Why was Parker any different?

He never said another word to me, but he made sure to keep in time with me. I hated that, and I also hated the eyes that landed on us. He walked so close, making it actually believable that we were walking together towards class. I watched as confusion fell on many faces, many of which I didn't recognise. I felt like a sore thumb. I normally blended in with the crowd, no one ever noticing me. This time last week, things were just what they were supposed to be. But now, on this fresh start to a week, everyone was seeing me. All because of one really annoying Peter Parker.

The bell shrilled, indicating the start of first class. Parker and I went into class, and I realized that, unfortunately, he sat one row across and a desk behind. I settled in my seat, my skin prickling with anxiety. I opened my notebook, starting to doodle in its pages. Within minutes, the teacher started to ramble, but I heard her as more of a drone in my ears. Even though I couldn't really hear her as I was an expert at zoning out, I was increasingly aware of a pair of eyes burning into my back. I snuck a peek back at Parker, and sure enough his eyes were trained on me and only me. He gave me a sly smile, and in return I pulled my hood up.

_Blank him, blank him! _But I couldn't blank him. His gaze was like a burning sensation, something so hard to ignore. I could feel his gaze scorching my hand as I scribbled away, drawing hell knows what with my black ball pen. What was his problem? If I could, I would have turned to him and demanded that exact question, but I would have rather avoided detention. For the last half hour of class, I stared up at the clock at the front of the room, begging for time to go quicker.

When the bell finally went, I practically ran for the door and down the corridor. However, during my haste, I slammed straight into a girl who I later learned was called Charlotte Steele, and her boyfriend, Jason Black. Both were very tall, glaring down at me like a pair of bulldogs waiting to tear me to shreds.

"Watch where you're going, you freak!" Charlotte spat, slamming her hands in my chest. My breath caught with slight shock, and I tried to reason with what she had just done. I was suddenly blinded with rage. How _dare _she! So, naturally, I leapt at her, my hand slamming into her face.

The next thing I knew, her boyfriend rammed me into the lockers, shaking me like a baby rattle. I clawed at his bare arms, trying to scratch at his face. His face, from what I could tell, was screwed up with fury, and he was at least two heads taller than me. I vaguely heard the girl ranting for him to beat the crap out of me, and in all honesty, he was doing a good job. My head spun, pain shot up my spine. He slammed his feet down on mine, ensuring to keep his crotch free of any for of injury.

"Let go!" I cried, and I realised I sounded frightened. I was! The guy was rattling the life out of me! People began to circle up, chanting and protesting at the same time.

"Beat the crap out of her!"

"Come one, you're not being fair, man!"

"Knock it off, man!"

They were no help, the ones trying to reason with him. It was clear that he had lost it, and I felt ready to collapse after ten seconds of throttling. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, he was off me, and a new figure stood in his place. Seeing double, whoever stood in front of me pressed their back into my front, shielding me away from my attacker. All fell silent, absorbing whatever the hell was happening.

"Move, Parker." Someone said, presumably the boyfriend.

"Get lost and leave her alone." Parker said, his voice low, rumbling through his body and into me. What was he doing? Was he insane? Who the hell in the right mind would help _me?_

"I said move it!"

"I never saw you as the kind of guy to hit girls, man." People _ooh_ed with the accusation, and silence followed for a moment. I took note of Parker's body tensing in front of me, readying for an attack. He moved back slightly more, completely trapping me in his protective stance. And then...

"Come on, Jason, let's go." Charlotte said, and a few seconds later I heard the boyfriend's gruff agreement. Over Parker's shoulder, I watched him stride down the corridor, wrapping an arm around the girlfriend. Finally, Parker relaxed, and everyone moved off towards their classes. The whole event happened in under a minute. Parker turned to me slumped against the lockers.

"You okay?" he asked gently. I shook my head, my head pounding. I must have lost my footing, because suddenly he was holding me up, lifting my arm around his shoulders and offering support. If I had the strength, I would have pushed him away. But, realistically, I needed the help, and I hated myself for admitting it. "Come on, let's get you to class."

Seeing no other choice, I leaned into him and let him lead me down the corridor, but not before stopping to get some wet tissues to put to my head.


	5. Memories

**Okay, so I saw the new Spiderman film today, and OH MY GOD I LOVED IT! It was everything I wanted it to be! So, thanks to that I have some ideas on how to continue this story, and I certainly know for sure on how to develop the relationships. Thank you to those who are reviewing, you have no idea how much that means to me! :D**

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"You shouldn't have done that." I croaked, leaning on the wall for support. We waited for our teacher to arrive outside the door, and while doing so I held the cold tissues to the back of my head, soothing the stabbing pain in my skull. Parker stood beside me, looking down at me with dark humour in his eyes. That unnerved me a little, and it was like he was seeing more than a girl with a bad head.

"It was either that or you pass out on the floor." He told me, folding him arms and securing the argument. I moaned, tilting my head back and staring at the ceiling.

"It was none of your business." I said, closing my eyes.

"You made it my business." I snapped by head towards him, ready to argue, when suddenly the teacher arrived. He raised his eyebrows, daring me to challenge him as we entered the room. I glowered, taking my seat on one side of the room whereas he took his on the other. The other kids filed in, murmuring to one another and eyes landing on me. I briskly pulled my hood over my head, the wet ball of tissue falling to my desk. Great, now the whole event would be around school, and there was no chance of me turning invisible now.

I wasn't even sure what class I was in. I didn't care. I laid my head on the desk, cooling my skin and soothing the pain in my head. I listened to the drone of the teacher, ignored the constant hot gazes in my direction. Like I have already said, people just didn't know how to mind their own business. Gee, I bet they would have had a field day if the guy had split my head open, and quite frankly, I wished he had.

Time. It went slower today, more so than usual. I hated the element of time. At least with people you could have a certain control over them and keep them at arm's length, but time was that one thing that always worked against you. It always went too fast when you enjoyed something, and then incredibly slow when you wanted nothing more but to go home. And today, all I wanted was to get on a rooftop and dream.

But then my mind began to wonder. I thought back to just half an hour ago, in the corridor, Parker's body lined up with mine and securing me from danger. His scent had filled my nostrils, his warmth radiating into me, and I came to the startling realization. I hadn't felt protected for far too long, but in those brief moments, I realized I had relished what Parker had offered me. Protection and support. I hadn't felt such things since the night mom and dad died, and I shoved my face in my arms on the desk.

My mind drifted back to that very night. I could feel the chilling air and the weight of the shadows of that night. Walking home, our footsteps echoing loudly and giving away our presence. Not that we knew what was to happen. I remembered speaking loudly, laughing about something and walking backwards to face my parents. They were grinning at whatever comment I had said, mom rolling her eyes and dad shaking his head with amusement. But to this day I would never forget the look in his eyes, the changing current of humour to terror.

One moment I had been laughing, the next I was deadly silent.

Dad had lunged for me and hauled me behind him, shielding both myself and my mom, who was gripping my arm to make sure I stayed where I was. I had been aware of our shopping falling all over the street, packets of food and the clanging of cans breaking the silence of the night. But that was the least of my concern, for I was too transfixed on the gun held to dad's head.

"Wallet. Now." I could remember that voice, so low and dangerous, enough to prickle the hair on you skin. Even now, hearing it in my head, a shiver ran through my body. I remembered trembling, seeing nothing but the gun, feeling the presence of more than one mugger. I couldn't see any of their faces, and I didn't want to. I felt dad dig out his wallet, aware of mom throwing over her purse. And then one of the muggers told us to get to our knees.

They all laughed, loving the control they had over us. The one with the gun circled us, taunting us, and I would forever know that I could have changed everything. I could have lunged, snatched the gun and saved my parents. They would have ran and we would have gone home as just a very shaken up family. But I didn't. I remained frozen like a coward, whimpering like a pathetic little girl when the gun got pointed at me.

And then my dad attacked them, along with my mom, both protecting me. The fight didn't last a minute, and I did nothing to help. Both dropped, and the four men ran, completely forgetting about me. Blood, warm and sticky, crept towards me, curling around the shape of my hands on the ground. And all I could feel was the sheer agony of being alone. The regret would come much later. The final thing I could remember of that night was the ripping of thunder, and then the cool drops of rain falling on my skin.

The shrill of the bell made me jump out of my skin. I lifted my head, watching as everyone rose to their feet and left for break. Stiffly, I got to my feet and staggered for the door, but Parker wasn't about to let me go that easy.

"Will you just leave me alone?" I said, but my voice was quiet, none threatening.

"No can do." He told me smugly, using my shoulder as an armrest. I was so drained that I couldn't even shake out of the gesture. All I wanted was to get to the roof of a building and drown, needing the thought of flying with the birds. But I have the rest of the day to go yet.

"What do you want from me?" I whispered, hugging my notebook to my chest. He dropped his arm, his gaze searing hot. He didn't answer for a moment, but when he did, his voice was sincere.

"Trust." _Good luck with that. _I remained silent after that.

"Listen," he said, just as the bell went for next lesson about fifteen minutes later. "I'm not in your next class. And I'm pretty sure you won't be trying to find me after. But at dinner, I'll be out by the benches around the back of school if you do change your mind." He gently punched my shoulder, leaving me to gape after him. I realized that he had led me straight to my next class, and he moved on towards his own with confidence in his stride. And thought occurred to me. How did he know my schedule?

For the second time, I had no idea what class I was sitting. Normally in lessons, I would scribble in my notebook, fall asleep or have a silent battle with time. But today all that wrapped around my thoughts was Peter Parker. I thought about how persistent he was, determination always clouding his eyes when he was near. I thought about this morning and his protective stand in front of me, and how he helped me in the aftermath. I thought about how he was suddenly everywhere I was, and I couldn't help but feel it had something to do with my suicide attempt.

I barely ever thought of another human being now, but guessing Peter's plan was easy. The more time he spent in my presence, the more likely he would linger in my thoughts. And, of course, it was working. Clever bastard. But I just wanted to know _why. _Why was he so suddenly obsessed with me? Why was he risking getting a black eye to protect me? Why was he bothering to _care_ about _me? _He didn't know anything about me! And yet, even if it was completely against my very nature, my heart fluttered with warmth at the thought of someone caring for me. But that made me feel... human, and that was the last thing I wanted.

I didn't want to feel like anything. I wanted to be numb.

I considered confronting him and tell him where to go, that I didn't need his help. But another thought hit me. Deep down, I needed help, but I wasn't brave enough. I never would be. Yes, Martha tried to be there for me, but she always backed down with anger and frustration. Whereas Parker never let my words bother him. That annoyed me more than anything, and it made me want a reaction from him, which meant I would need him in my company more often. Damn him!

For the last six months, I always thought I _wanted _to be lonely. But now, after just mere moments with Parker, from simply being there to protecting me, I found myself drowning with loneliness.

No. I wouldn't let Parker win.

The bell went, and for the first time in too long, I wished it hadn't. For the first time in six months, time had gone quick.

Sure enough, after I received my bag from my locker, Parker was sitting on the bench in at the back of the school, talking to some blonde girl. Both were smiling brightly at one another, seemingly at complete peace with one another. I stalked past them, but I didn't go unseen. Parker seemed to have a radar on me now.

"Claudia!" he called, waving a hand for me to join him and his friend. I stopped but made no effort to join him. "Come on, just for today." He pressed, and regrettably, the offer was so very tempting. Just for that company, that feeling of being wanted. It was amazing on how much of a difference it made. The girl smiled warmly, perhaps shyly, but she meant nothing to me. Hell, I didn't even know her name.

And then something caught my eye. Birds. Free, souring, untouchable birds flying miles up above our heads. I was aware of Parker following my gaze. The birds spoke much louder than he ever could. They always sparked the envy I felt for them, the need to be free and weightless like them.

I had an hour, and I would use that hour to my advantage. Parker cleared from my thoughts, and I raced away from the grounds of Midtown High, finding the nearest building with a fire escape to climb. I was strongly aware of someone running after me, but all logic and the ability to care abandoned me. I needed my time of peace, the only time I couldn't feel the pain and emptiness. I needed that time with the birds, sun and sky. I needed that freedom, even if it was just out of reach.

I had no idea which building I stood on top of, but once I was there, I was at peace, if not out of breath. Whoever had chased after me stood by my side, looking out into the distance with me. Now that I was thinking clearly, I knew it was Parker.

He stood so close, his shoulder barely touching mine, but I just didn't care. There was no getting rid of him, in knew that now, so caring was just a waste of time.

"Why do you come up to places like this?" he asked quietly, looking down at me. I didn't look at him, too transfixed in the beauty of the sky. Breathing in a long breath, I hesitantly answered his question.

"To numb the pain." Later I knew I would kick myself, but my whole day had been so bodged up it didn't seem to matter for the moment.

"What pain?" too far, I was not answering that question. I glared at him.

"None of your damn business." I snapped. He lifted his palms in surrender, stepping away. In that moment, I came to yet another realization. I always came up to a rooftop during my dinner breaks, but I had never spent that time in another person's presence. No one ever knew I went. And yet, with Parker by my side and soaking up as much beauty as me, I found myself warming up slightly in my heart.

"You know what? I'll go, because I can see you want to be alone." He turned to leave, and then, so suddenly and unexpected, I turned and started to reach for him against my will. He walked off, his back to me, and luckily he never saw me reach for him, never noticed how my mouth opened a fraction to utter the words "Stop." But I caught myself and watched him leave, blinking furiously at my own stupidity.

He left me up there, alone with my thoughts. However, I didn't feel so free today. Watching him leave made me feel lonelier that I thought was possible. I hated him for it.

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**Don't forget to review, and if you haven't seen the movie yet, GO AND SEE IT! **


	6. Test

**Next chapter! Thanks again for the reviews, they really make my day! I perhaps wont update for a few days because I have my prom tomorrow night and then the next day I'm out with a friend, so you'll have to bare with me! If I get time, I will update ASAP! Enjoy guys!**

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I managed to avoid Parker until the end of the day. I had just come out of a maths class, rubbing my temples and trying to rid the sums that had somehow crammed into my brain. As I stormed out of the classroom, he was there by the door, his skateboard rolling back and forth under one foot. I tried to pretend I didn't see him and looked in any direction apart from his, walking towards the lockers and snagging my bag. As I started for the main doors, Parker rolled up beside me.

"Can I walk you home?" he asked innocently. I folded my arms around my front, as if trying to hold myself together. I knew what he was up to. He was trying to bury himself beneath my skin like a parasite, and of course parasites were almost impossible to get rid of.

"Do I have much of a choice?" I said bitterly, biting my tongue.

"Not really." He laughed half heartedly, and his laugh sounded like music in my ears. However, the blonde stood waiting for him, smiling brightly at him but shyly at me. I rolled my eyes and kept on walking, Parker stopping behind to have a word with her. When I turned the corner, he was skateboarding beside me, managing to keep a steady pace with me in the process.

"Sorry about lunch. I shouldn't have followed you." he said after a while, just as we turned down the back alleys towards my apartment building. I remained silent, grinding my teeth. "I know more about you than you think, you know." More silence, growing so agonizing by the moment in my chest. I wanted to scream at him, shove him, kick him, slap his face, _anything _for him to just back off! "I understand that losing someone you love is hard-" hell no!

"Don't!" I yelled, spinning and shoving him off of the damn skateboard. He felt solid, unbreakable, and if he hadn't have been on the board, I was pretty sure he wouldn't have been budged. But he toppled, his back slamming into a brick wall. "Don't even go there! You know nothing about me! _Nothing!_" I rammed my hands furiously through my hair, gasping for air as I tried to control my anger.

"I just wanna he-"

"_Help? _I don't need your help!" I went for him again, but this time he was ready for it. In a flash he caught my wrists, my hands in fists as I tried to ram them into his face. His feet looped around my ankles, and I suddenly felt the sensation of spinning. Finally, my back was to the wall, my arms up above my head and his knees digging just above my own. I squirmed, the touch infuriating me, but I mainly couldn't stand the idea of feeling so small. We were breathing hard, his eyes boring into mind, his breath in my face. _Get away, get away!_

"You're not as strong as you think." He said, a smile playing on his lips.

"Let. Go." I spat, gathering saliva in my mouth to spit in his face. His eyes landed on the muscles moving in my cheeks, and in the speed of light he gathering both wrists in one hand and clamped the other over my mouth. I whimpered against his palm, shutting my eyes and trying to block the knowledge of knowing how much stronger he was. And determined. Gently, he placed his forehead against mine, the gesture so kind and warm my entire body went rigid. It felt so foreign to have someone be this close to me, to insist on being with me. It felt so out of the ordinary that it actually frightened me, my skin becoming moist with nerves.

"I won't ever hurt you, Claudia." He whispered. I trembled, my breath quivering beneath his palm. "I just want you to trust me." I vigorously shook my head, desperately trying to free myself from his grip. He sighed, gingerly loosening his grip. I opened my eyes slowly. I met his strong gaze, and he raised an eyebrow. "Please don't spit." And then he released my mouth.

"I don't... have the... strength." I stuttered, turning my face away from him. How could I trust anyone anymore? I had pushed everyone away with such force, right down to my own sister. Why should Parker me any different? Why should I let him into my life? I was so sure I was better off without friendships and love, for they just made everything a whole lot more painful. But standing here, pinned against the wall, another human standing so close to me that the heat of it burned, left me needing a whole lot more. Despite myself, I wanted conversations, physical touch. I wanted to be loved, even if that was the very thing that scared me.

"You remind me of me, you know." He said, chuckling. "You do have the strength, you just need to let someone help you use it." he then looked down the alley, just a few blocks from my apartment, and then he smiled. Swiftly he released me, however he kept one of my wrists securely in his hand. He snagged his board and tugged me along with him.

"Come on." He said. "Let's get out of here." He led me to my apartment, but then he stopped at the fire escape. He inclined his head to it, indicating that I climb up. I merely frowned, hugging myself.

"Why?" I said stiffly, simply wanting to go home and climb into bed.

"Just do it." seeing that he was just going to be stubborn, I did as he asked, climbing up onto the first platform. He wasn't happy with that, insisting that I climb to the second. "Now stand on the railing."

"Huh?"

"You know, like in the Titanic movie." He grinned. Grinding my teeth, I did so, but I stayed on my hunches for the sake of not falling. It was easy to guess that if I let myself fall now, I would more than likely break an ankle. I could feel how off balance I was, the railing no thicker than a ruler under my feet and hands. I snapped my head towards Parker, raising my brows. He put weight on his left leg, folding his arms but twirling a finger. His smile unnerved me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. _Turn around. _

"No."

"Please?" curiosity got the better of me. I did so, and then he told me to slowly stand up straight, which again I first rejected. But when I followed through, he said something that sent my head reeling.

"Now lean back."

"No way!"

"I'll catch you." and then I realised. This was a test of trust, the first steps for me to begin and reach out to him. I had to admit that the idea was so simple, and yet it spoke so many words. "I'll count to three. Close your eyes if you have to." Laugher was in his tone, and he was clearly enjoying the fact that he was actually getting me to listen. I closed my eyes. "One... two... three." And, to my amazement, I fell back.

Parker caught me effortlessly, his arms already waiting for my weight. He set me quickly down on my feet, his smile beaming whereas my heart pounded with nerves. And yet, on some level, I _knew _he would catch me and not let me get hurt. He had said so earlier, that he would never hurt me. I supposed that this was his way of proving it. However, I still remained wary of him, always watching his every move.

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" he said, grinning. Hesitantly I shook my head. "Again?"

We did that same process four more times, and by the fifth time, he didn't have to give me any instructions. It was like a game, I supposed, a game that I could actually play and stick to the rules. Finally, he got out his phone to check the time, and then he sighed heavily.

"I gotta go, my Aunt will be waiting for me." he said, tucking his phone back in his jacket pocket. _Aunt? _"I'll see you around." He smiled, nudging my shoulder, and then he took off back towards the main streets on his skateboard. I gazed after him, awed by his flawlessness. Peter Parker was something else entirely. I didn't know what that was yet, but there was something to him that seemed to go much deep than what appeared on the surface. When I looked into his eyes, I thought I could see a faint pain that lingered in the rims. And it was the slight chance that he felt pain that drew me in. I wanted to know why _he _was suffering, and thus lead to why he was so determined to help me.

When I got home, I found myself frozen at the door. Martha was crying on the floor of the living room, her entire body trembling with grief. Standing above her was Rick, his hand outstretched as if demanding for an item. His stance was rigid, dangerous, and the way he towered over my sister sparked a certain protection that I thought had long gone. I slammed the door shut.

"What's going on?" I said, slowly making my way into the apartment. Two pairs of eyes latched onto me, a pair completely swollen and red, the other angry and tight. Suddenly, Rick reached out with a flash of his arm, snagged Martha's arms, and then yanked a ring off of her finger. Her engagement ring. I watched in utter shock as he shoved it in his pocket, and I was suddenly deafened by the wails of my sister. Rick stormed over to me, and I felt my blood boil.

"Back off!" I shouted, suddenly feeling threatened. Being as tall as he was, he was easily seen as a man of malice. But he completely ignored my threat and gripped a handful of my hair, slamming my body against the door.

The next thing I knew, my nails had dug into the flesh of his cheek.

Martha lunged forwards, stampeding towards the man who was now having his cheek torn to shreds. In seconds, Martha stood between us, and I thought that she was sticking up for him rather than me.

"Don't you dare touch my sister!" she shrieked, slapping his bleeding cheek. He staggered, flabbergasted as to what had just happened. Fire blazed across his face, his body rippling with rage.

"So that's you decision finalized." He snarled. "Good luck with that pathetic, mess of a sister there." and with that he stormed out of the apartment, hauling the door shut behind him. I stood in a bubble of confusing, staring at the blood beneath my fingertips. Then I looked towards Martha.

"What decision?" I asked quietly.

"It was either him or you." she told me, tears streaming down her face. In that moment, I felt my heart tear apart. She turned, stumbling over to the sofa and then sobbed into its cushions. I slid down the face of the door, gazing at the blood and flesh, suddenly wishing that he suffered a hell of a lot more than he did. But it wasn't the fact that he wanted me out of the equation that had me torn up.

It was the fact that Martha still clung to the hope of my recovery, even though I was never going to be the baby sister she wished I still was. But I would never be that little innocent. Not now, not ever. I would always be broken, torn up, driven by guilt that was so close to taking my life. It wasn't that I was upset about her choosing me, but I was upset by the fact that she was wasting her time.

I fell asleep that night to the sound of her sobs, broken and painful in her chest, and yet it was music to my ears. Parker was about to have his work cut out.

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**Don't forget to review! :D**


	7. Questions

**I'm back, but I'm exhausted :D Prom was amazing, but I could sure do with more sleep! Anywho, here's the next chapter for you guys, and I might update later, I'll see how I feel. Thank you for the reviews by the way! Enjoy!**

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That night, once I finally fell unconscious, I had a dream which felt more like a nightmare. I was falling, plunging for the ground of New York City at a million miles an hour, screaming so loud that my throat and chest hurt. My stomach was in my mouth, my limbs flailing as I tried to stop myself and fight gravity. But I continued to fall, the lights of cars and the sounds of what was below becoming more and more vivid. In my head, I should have felt relief for that fate that awaited me, but all I could think in the dream was: _Not now. _

My body never hit the tarmac, for I woke up before I could. I jerked on the floor, still in a ball by the door when I awoke. I took a sharp intake of breath, panting with panic that I shouldn't have been feeling. Heart pounding, I clambered to my feet and rubbed my temples, blinking away the grogginess in the process. I saw through double vision, the murky daylight leaking through the windows momentarily blinding me. I could just make out Martha curled on the sofa, hugging a cushion as she slumbered. Stumbling into the kitchen, I saw the time on the cooker. 06:31.

Slowly, the previous night's events came flooding back. The fight with that Jason guy, Parker stepping in to protect me, having him follow me everywhere... trying to gain my trust after school, and then finally the event with Rick. Gingerly I looked at my fingernails, seeing the nearly black substance that lurked beneath. Cringing, I dashed to the bathroom and cleaned them out, but then deciding to take a full on shower. Perhaps the water would wash away my troubles.

By the time I was out, dressed and wearing a head of damp hair, I decided to go and get something to eat. Just as the toast popped up from the toaster, Martha began to stir. I listened to her ground, stretching her limbs.

"Claudia?" she murmured groggily. I grunted in response. From the corner of my eye I watched her sit up and rub her eyes. Keeping my head low, I focussed on buttering my toast. I couldn't bear to look at her, not after what she had done. How could she do that? First practically leave her fiancé, and then have to slap him on my behalf? I didn't deserve that, both of us knew that. Suddenly, she cursed under her breath.

"Dammit, I'm late!" she ran to her room, emerging five minutes later with her hair tied back and wearing black trousers, a red t-shirt with her work's logo on her chest. She ran for the door, snagging her keys on the counter. But she paused, gazing back at me when she opened the door. "Please be home when I get back." she murmured, and then she was gone. I stared after her for a while, swallowing back the lump in my throat. I pushed any kind of emotion out of the window, hopping on the counter and consuming my breakfast.

Once I arrived at school, Parker was waiting for me at the main doors. But I immediately saw that something was different. As I walked closer, he smiled, and then the bruise around his cheek grew more prominent. It didn't look very sore, but it was red enough to know that it would be tender. He touched his cheek when he caught me staring, offering a lopsided smile.

"Some drunken guy decided to take a swipe at me last night." He told me in a joking manner. I raised an eyebrow. "Now he's lying in a hospital bed." I fought the urge to smile, for the image of this scrawny boy putting a drunken man in hospital was quite comical. Instead I rolled my eyes, walking past him. He followed of course, respecting my silence. All I could think about was Martha, and it was really beginning to get under my skin. I was so lost in thought from the events of last night that I never noticed my "friends" Jason and Charlotte walk towards me.

Parker slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. I jerked, gripping his arm as I readied to shove him away when I finally noticed them. Smoothly, Parker walked us to my locker, his eyes firmly locked on Jason's. After receiving cold gazes, they finally left, and Parker released me in a flash. Silently, I opened my locker and placed in my bag, shutting it gently after.

"Are you okay?" he asked, folding his arms. In that simple moment, his eyes locked on mine, taking in my appearance, I actually wanted to tell him what was troubling me. He would listen to me. Maybe he would even care. But sense came in just as quickly, and I simply sighed and walked away. I couldn't tell him, he didn't have a right to know. He may have been burrowing under my skin, but he hadn't reached my heart yet. For the moment, I wasn't completely poisoned by him, but with that said I could feel the poison spreading. And I needed an antidote.

He followed me into class, sitting in his own seat but he gaze hot like it had been the day before. The class went by fast, adding to my annoyance. Everything was happening to quickly now, ever since that night. I truly wished that Spiderman hadn't saved me, had let me die. I wished I wasn't here. I was so close to drowning, but recent events were keeping my head above the water. The pain would be constantly trying to pull me down, trying to tear me apart. God, why wouldn't it just _end? _

By the time lunch came around, I contemplated going up to yet another rooftop for an hour. However, for the first time in six months, I couldn't find any energy. Instead and this came as a shock to even myself, I hesitantly followed Parker to the outside benches, suddenly feeling unsure of myself. Parker sat down and dug into his bag, pulling out a bag of sandwiches. From what I could tell they were cheese and ham. Much to my annoyance, my stomach growled. I never had lunch, for I was never present at school during lunch break, and I certainly never went out of my way to pack one. I never really got hungry around this time because I was never around food, but now I was, my body wanted to have its way.

I perched myself on top of the bench, staring at anything but Parker's lunch. I vaguely wondered where the blonde was today, for she was nowhere to be seen.

"Here." Parker said, and I turned to look at him. He held out half of his sandwich, the other half making its way to his mouth. I simply stared so he nudged the damn thing closer, urging me to take it. Sighing, I took it from him and took a tiny bite. I ignored his triumphant grin. For a while we remained quiet until I plucked the nerve to speak.

"Why are you even bothering?" I asked, picking at the bread.

"Why not?" he shrugged, meeting my gaze in that moment. "We've already been over this."

"To gain my trust, I know. But _why?_" I demanded, lowering my voice. He simply grinned, taking another bite of his half.

"Is it so wrong to be a friend?" he asked innocently.

"What is there to gain in being my friend?" I retorted, glaring at him. He had a motive; he _had _to have a motive.

"Sure you're a little rough around the edges, but I would be one to talk if I judged you on that account." He told me casually.

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't." He chuckled, but then he locked his eyes with mine. "But I don't trust you enough to tell you what I mean." My mouth fell open, shocked that he had just come out with such words. How could he not trust _me? _He was the one trying to wedge himself into my life, not the other way around!

"Hardly fair." I muttered, grinding my teeth.

"All the more reason to keep me around." He answered, grinning yet again. Silence fell over us again, but I actually felt comfortable. His words reeled in my head as I tried to make sense of them, but to no avail. Then I came to a realization. In a way, Parker knew more about me than I knew about him. He knew about my suffering, he knew about my trust issues, he knew about my parents, he even knew where I lived. All I knew was that he lived with an Aunt.

"I don't even know you." I said. His eyes looked up in question. "If you're going to be sticking around, shouldn't we at least learn stuff about one another?" I couldn't believe that these words were coming out of my mouth, and yet I wanted nothing more but to know more about this boy who simply wasn't going anywhere. Like I said, the poison was spreading.

"How about we play... Twenty Questions?" he suggested, sitting straighter. His eyes gleamed, reflecting what I thought was triumph and hope. Hope, the one thing I had lost so long ago. "Ladies first."

I thought, cooking up a very simple question. "What's your favourite colour?"

"Can I have two favourite colours?" he asked. I shrugged. "Red and blue." A twinkle of mischief lit his eyes, but only for a moment. He was quick to hide it. "What's your favourite animal?"

"Birds." I said without even thinking. "When's your birthday?"

"August fifteenth." He paused. "Yours?"

"May tenth."

It continued like that until the end of dinner, just asked short and simple questions. It was very effective, for I knew a lot more than I did in the beginning. He lived with his Aunt May in Forest Hills, he had a fascination for spiders (which I found odd but didn't question), he liked to pass his time by doing tricks on his skateboard, and there were many more. He learnt the basics about myself, such as my own favourite colour (black), how I liked to do graffiti, and he even asked what my favourite food was. We both made sure to keep within the boundaries, for neither of us were ready to ask the deeper questions. The one thing that I wanted to know was what happened to his own parents.

The bell went and we parted ways. He promised to wait for me at the end of the day to walk me home again, and I openly had no objection. He was becoming all the more interesting, especially if he also had no parents. I watched him walk down the corridor, and just as I turned to go to my own class, he turned and smiled at me.

And I smiled back.

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	8. Art

**Hey guys! Now, one of you reviewers have risen a question which I wasn't sure how to approach at first, so I decided to let _you _answer it... Should Peter and Claudia be only friends or something more? Let me know!**

**I also have some bad news... after tomorrow, I won't be updating for about 4 days, because I am going away on a well deserved holiday. I will try and upload a couple more chapters before I leave, but I thought I'd better let you guys know since you are being so loyal and wonderful! **

**For now, enjoy :)**

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As promised, Peter walked me home. We made gentle chatter, him doing most of the talking. He asked how my lessons were, what I had planned for the evening, and he even asked if I wanted him to stick around for a while. I preferred him not too, and put it as simply as possible, and yet I kept my voice soft. It felt so good to actually speak to someone nicely rather than threateningly. It somehow lifted a weight from my shoulders, taking away the burden of silently longing for wanting someone. I had tried so hard to convince myself that I was fine alone, that I didn't need anyone, and that hard effort to feel that way had made the longing go numb. But now that Peter had pushed his way in and took that weight away, I felt like I could breathe more easily.

When we reached the door of my apartment, I let out a heavy sigh.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked, leaning on the door frame.

"Nothing." I murmured, and he didn't question. Now I had to wait for Martha to come back and have a "pep talk" about last night's events, and slowly the reality of my life began to creep back in. I didn't want to talk to Martha. I had no energy to talk to her. I didn't want her to start trying to reach out to me again, for she wasn't the sister I remembered her being. She used to be like a best friend, but now she was trying to be a mother, and that was one thing that I couldn't deal with.

"Thanks for walking me home." I said, quickly adding, "Though there was no point."

"Believe it or not, Claudia, you're growing on me." he said, grinning. I glanced at the graze on his cheek, and I noted on how it was slowly growing darker, forming a more prominent bruise. He turned to go.

"Peter?" I said, and it was the first time his name had fallen from my lips. He stopped, frozen for a moment before he turned back. "Maybe you should get some ice for that." I pointed towards his cheek. He touched it tenderly and rolled his eyes.

"I'll see what I can do." He told me, smiling. Then he left, shifting his bag on his shoulder and carrying his skateboard in one hand. I sighed again and turned into the door, stepping inside and tossing my keys on the counter. I noticed the flashing of our phone on the end of the counter, the red lights on the stand flashing a number 1 at me. I walked over and pressed the play button, and the machine told me I had a new message.

"_Claudia, I'm so sorry, but I'm going to be late." _Said Martha's voice, the background filled with voices from what I assumed to be coming from inside the cafe she worked at. "_I'll be home at about eight tonight, make sure you're home when I get back." _the machine beeped, and the electronic voice said "End of messages." I glanced at the clock, seeing that it was only five o'clock. Since I had three hours to kill, I refused to stay in the apartment.

I got a box of pizza from the freezer and turned on the oven. Placing in the pizza, I waited ten minutes for it to cook and then placed it on top of the stove, cutting it into slices. I managed to consume four slices out of eight, and then I went to my room. Foraging through my wardrobe, my hand landed on a can of spray paint, this one being the colour green. Placing it in the front pocket of my hoody, I walked out of the apartment.

The streets of New York were packed, just like normal at this time of day. I saw teenagers walking home from school, children clinging to the hands of the mothers, business men striding like the big heads they thought they were. I shoved through them, feeling like I was being suffocated by the crowds. God I hated masses of people. Just like my mother did.

I remembered when I was younger, when myself and mom went to the supermarket for our weekly shopping. I would cling to the trolley so I wouldn't lose her, and I was help pick out the items she wanted from the lower shelves. I used to love shopping with her, because she always made me laugh. Every time someone got in the way, blocking an isle or standing in front of the items mom wanted to look at, she would grit her teeth and pretend to ram her trolley into them. It used to send me into a fit of giggles, and I'd scold her for it. I wished I had a trolley now, only I wouldn't _pretend _to ram the people in my damn way!

Finally, I found an abandoned alley with lurking shadows. Swiftly I pulled up my hood and shook my spray can, glancing behind me to make sure I wasn't being followed. Smiling to myself, I pointed the spray can to the wall. The sound of the paint squeezing out of the can gave me a soothing satisfaction and I began to make completely random patterns on the wall.

Ever since I was a kid I've had a soft spot for art. It was a way to express myself, whether it was simple patterns, block writing or images. When I was little, I used to paint endlessly, my room covered in my paintings of dogs, cats, landscapes and some of my family. Of course they weren't brilliant, but they got the message across. As I got older, I got a lot more talented. Mom said it was a gift and that I should never stop expressing myself. After she died, I wanted the population to know how I felt, see the hate on their city walls. I wanted them to _feel _my pain.

Tonight was different.

Just as I finished off my work, I was soon aware that I wasn't alone. Low laughter filled the alley way, belonging to several people. Young men. The sun was beginning to set, and in this confined area I was almost plunged into darkness. Down in the opening, I could see four hooded figures making their way towards me, throwing their weight about. I felt my body go rigid defensively, the can clattering to the ground.

"Looky here, boys!" one of them said loudly, the others booming with laughter.

"The local art bandit is a chick!" yelled another, his voice portraying amazement.

"Lower the hood, sweetheart." The first one said, and the laughter turned to dangerous chuckling. I swallowed, clenching my hands into fists. They were no older than myself, and yet I knew I was no match against them. Guys like them were never good news, and I could only imagine what they had in store for me.

"She's small, ain't she?" one of them observed, talking as if I couldn't hear them.

"You've been a pain in our asses." The ring leader said, walking ahead of the others. "We've been the ones who have had to clean up your mess. Cops thought it was us."

"Shame." I spat, backing away. They all _ooh_ed, laughing freely as they mocked my boldness.

"They is no way we're going to clean this mess again." the first one snarled, just meters away from me. On impulse, I picked up the can and lobbed it at the guy closest to me, and it bounced from his face. He yelped. I ran.

I fled through the shadows as fast as my legs would carry me, turning this way and that to try and avoid them. I jumped a fence, landing awkwardly on my ankle and letting out a cry of pain. They were close, so close, their feet pounding into the ground and the sounds bouncing from the walls. They jumped the fence after me, and I barely escaped their landing feet. I sprinted for a fire escape ahead, leaping from the ground and clambering over the bar with a _clang. _However, one of them grabbed my ankle, pulling my leg through the bars as I clung on to the safety bar on the other side.

"Let go!" I cried, using my free foot to ram in his face. He grunted, blood pooling from his nose. The others piled in like a pack of wolves, jumping onto the fire escape and pinning me down on the steps. My back dug into the metal steps and I let out yelps of pain, trying to squirm under them. They simply laughed at my weakness.

"This will teach you to stop putting crap on the walls." The guy above me growled, and I saw the lining of his fist in the low light. I clenched my eyes shut, awaiting the blow.

"That is no way to treat a lady." came a calm, chilling voice. And suddenly I was free, clinging to the bar as if it were a safety line. I heard a familiar sound, a _hiss _that I had heard not so long ago. My blood chilled for a moment. I listened to a cry of panic, and the pounding of feet running in the far distance.

"I'm sorry man, please, I'm s...s...sorry!" panting, I looked down from the fire escape, and I saw the ring leader being pinned to the wall by none other than Spiderman. He was on the wall, however, far up from the ground with his face in the attacker's.

"It's not me you should be saying sorry to, _man._" There was a scuffle as Spiderman slammed the guy's back into the wall.

"_Sorry!_" the guy yelled, presumably to me.

"Good, now get out of here." And just like that, the attacker was on the ground, belting it down the alley. I was quick to follow.

I managed to run for about five minutes, and luckily, he didn't follow me.

Or so I thought.

I leaned against the wall of a dead end, trying to catch my breath. My chest burned with pain, the muscles of my limbs feeling like they were turning into jelly. I couldn't put my ankle firmly on the ground, barely managing to keep it on my toes without it hurting. When I thought I was clear, someone cleared their throat above me.

"Ahem... you know, I could give you lift home." I looked up, met my the striking eyes of Spiderman's mask. He was on all fours on the wall, and even though he wore a mask, I could feel the smile in his voice... a voice that sounded oddly familiar.

"Leave me alone." I snarled, limping away.

"Do you go out of your way to be awkward?" he scurried along the walls, turning the corner as he followed me at my right hand side.

"I go out of my way to _avoid you._" I hissed.

"Ouch." Dammit, where had I heard his voice before? I wanted him to keep talking, so I could put a name to the voice, but then again I wanted nothing more than to get away from him. He didn't save them. He never came! He was part of the reason that they were dead! "So I don't even get a 'Thank you Spidey'?" I didn't answer, hoping he'd take a hint. And yet he continued to follow me, turning the corners of the walls every time I turned.

"Seriously, what is with the graffiti stuff?" he asked. "As cool as it is, it tips off the cops." I took note of how he spoke. He sounded young, his body indicated he was young, even if it was in a spider-like manner. Tall and lean... confident. I rubbed of the nagging feeling of who he could be and why he seemed so familiar, simply trying to look for an escape route.

He never came. He never helped us. And now they were dead.

"The silence is killing me." his voice turned whiney. "And so is this slow pace."

"Go away then! Go save someone else's ass!"

"Did I do something to, gee I don't know, _offend _you in some way?" I could hear that he was upset, annoyed even. Clearly not appreciating my attitude towards him.

"Yes, you saved my life a couple of nights ago, _that _offended me." he was quiet then, absorbing my words, and when I looked up, the wall was bare.

Good riddance.

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	9. Pep Talk

**Hey guys! Thanks again for the feedback, I think we have a clear winner to that question! Now I know what direction this story should take :) And by the way, Gwen shall be making an appearance soon, since her name has been risen once or twice. I will try and upload one, maybe two chapters later for you :) Enjoy!**

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I was back home by half seven. Carefully, I wrapped some ice in a dish towel and tenderly pressed it to my ankle, hopping over to the sofa. When I sat down, the cushions folding around me in the most wonderful form of comfort, I released a sigh of bliss. My ankle was a little red and swollen, but I came to the conclusion that it wasn't sprained quickly enough. Switching on the TV, I had the pleasure of actually relaxing while watching an episode of _Scrubs_.

In reality, I was trying to distract myself from what awaited me in half an hour. Martha would be home soon, and when she had her mind on something she always followed through. She was like my dad in that sense. It had really frustrated mom and me. Say our computer broke... dad would spend hours trying to fix it, even if he had no idea what he was doing. It frustrated us because he always set his mind on something at the most inconvenient of times. That was what Martha would be like any time now, insisting on having a chat about the previous night whether I liked it or not.

I clenched my eyes shut in despair when I heard the door open. I felt myself shrink into the cushions, running a hand down my face. Great.

"Claudia? Oh, you're home!" she said. I rolled my eyes to myself, thinking how she couldn't be any more obvious. "Fancy some pizza?"

"Had some." I muttered, turning off the TV.

"Oh." She said dumbly. I listened as she placed her handbag on the counter, her keys clattering a second after. She walked around the sofa, her arms folded around her in a somewhat awkward stance. She was chewing on her thumb nail, a habit she had gotten into when she was little. She was nervous. I watched as her eyes raked over me, landing of the cloth on my ankle. She opened her mouth but I quickly cut her off.

"I tripped." I said, easily waving it off. She saw through my lie however, but she knew better than to expect the truth from me. Sighing, she fell into the sofa beside me, crossing her legs on the cushion. I nudged away from her, tucking my knees to my chest. I watched as she released her hair from its ponytail, catching a lock to play with.

"Are you okay after last night?" she finally asked.

"Yep."

"Have you seen him at all today?"

"Nope."

"Claudia, about last night..." she began, but I could already feel the tension rising.

"Don't. I don't even know why you did it. You should have just chosen him." I said harshly, breaking the ice.

"I would never choose anyone over you!" she said, her voice horrified. "You're my sister!"

"That makes no difference." I said, meeting her gaze. "You resent me because I came into your perfect little fantasy!" she stood up then, digging her hands in her hair with aggravation. She laughed without humour.

"You think I lived a life of fantasy? Ha!" she burst. "Listen up, you're not the only one with a messed up life. Do you think I don't miss them? Do you think that all of cared about was having my happily ever after? Do you really think I'm that _heartless? _The last six months have been a journey through Hell for me just as much as it has been for you!"

"Do you feel guilt?" I asked quietly, my heart thundering in my chest with rising anger. She stared at me, breathing hard through her mouth, her entire body rigid with fury. I took her silence as my answer. "I thought not."

"I do. I feel guilty for not knowing what to do with you." her eyes welled up, glistening with tears that threatened to fall. "You make it so... difficult. All I've done is _try _and help you. But you won't let me in... Why won't you let me in?" the tears fell now, having a race down her blotchy red cheeks. "Tell me what to do." Her voice was broken now, thick with emotion.

"Stop trying to get in." I told her. "Call your heart throb and beg him to take you back. Have your happily ever after. Stop feeling guilty over something that's a waste of time." I got up, heading for my room with a faint limp.

"You're not a waste of time, Claudia." She murmured, sniffling. "Rick's a waste of time.

"You're only saying that because he took away your diamond ring." I spat over my shoulder.

"No. I'm saying that because I love you more than I could love any man." I stopped, but only for a moment. I opened my door and limped through it, closing it gently behind me. I felt a single tear slither down my cheek, and I sank to the floor.

I skipped school for the rest of the week. I simply didn't have any energy to go and face Peter. I didn't want to talk, period. Instead, I lounged around the apartment with the music on full black, belting out the lyrics and stuffing myself with all sorts of crappy foods. When Martha got home each night, I locked myself in my room and listened to my music in there. She never had a clue that I'd had the three days off.

However, on the Friday, she was late again. She wasn't going to be home until nine this time, not that I had any complaints. I was lying with my legs over the back of the sofa, staring at the ceiling and thinking of absolutely nothing. I'll admit, I was bored out of my mind, but I just didn't have the energy to go out either. I didn't feel sad, angry, despair... I just felt absolutely nothing.

Three knocks sounded from the door at around six o'clock.

Closing my eyes, I sat up and padded over to the door. I looked through the peep hole, and on the other side was none other than Peter. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his head looking at the ceiling as he tapped his foot on the ground. The bruise on his cheeks seemed to be a little better, but then again it had been three days since I last saw him. However, the dark shadows under his eyes were extremely noticeable.

"Claudia, I know you're in there." he said loudly, knocking again. Sighing, I cracked open the door and peeked through.

"What?" I demanded, frowning.

"Where have you been?" he asked, his eyes raking my entire body from what he could see through the opening of the door.

"Wouldn't you like to know." I said.

"I was worried." He told me, his voice sincere.

"That's a cool story, now if you'll excuse me, I'm a little busy." I went to close the door but he stopped it with his foot. Slowly, he pushed the door open with little effort, poking his head inside. Before I could even yell at him, he gently pushed me out of the way and snagged my keys from the kitchen counter. He grabbed my wrist and hauled me out of the door, shutting it behind us.

"What the hell?" I shrieked, staring in shock as he locked my very own door. He shoved the keys in my hand and pulled me down the corridor. "You're so pushy!"

I tried to pull away from, but deep down I knew I could have easily put in more effort. A tiny part of me was so glad that he had showed up and gotten me out of the apartment. I was pretty sure that if I had one more day there I would have lost my mind. I guess I was getting tired of being in my own head.

"Where are we going?" I demanded when we were on the streets, moving through the waves of people.

"Skate Park." He said. He looked down at me, grinning broadly.

"Why?"

"Why not?" dammit, he always answered a question with a question.

It didn't take long to get there, a ten maybe fifteen minute walk. I was surprised to see that no one was there, but then again the sun was beginning to set. The park consisted of several small ramps, one large ramp and a tunnel, the sun seeming to stain the metal in a somewhat orangey-yellow colour. Graffiti coated many of the ramps, many colours coating them in amazing patterns and words. I looked around, seeing that the entire park was bordered by a curved wall, also a ramp in its own way.

Peter dropped his skateboard to the ground and released my wrist.

"Why are we here?" I asked, folding my arms.

"I find skateboarding to be a good pass time." He said. "I want to teach you."

"Again, why?"

"You don't trust me yet, do you?" I shook my head. "And I don't trust you yet, either. So how about we do some work on that?" he proposed, and I glanced at his skateboard that rolled back and forth under his foot. "I won't let you get hurt." He added.

"How exactly will I gain _your _trust in this?" I asked, raising a brow.

"You'll let me teach you, so then I know you won't turn around a punch me in the face."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to understand him. First he had me fall from the railing of a fire escape and into his arms, something that I wouldn't have dreamed of doing a week ago, and now he wanted me to learn how to ride a skateboard? He was like a rollercoaster, where you just didn't know what was around the next turning. I couldn't even understand how he had wedged his way into my pathetic excuse of a life. And here he was, playing the role of what I supposed was a friend. He was treating this whole trust scenario as if it was a game, taking it step by step at a pace I was surprisingly comfortable with. He just wasn't going to leave me alone, and quite frankly, I didn't want him to.

"Fine." I sighed. "But only for an hour."

"Done." He used his foot to push the board towards me, and I stopped it with my own as if sealing a deal.

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	10. Odder and odder

**I'M BACK! Hey you guys! I'm back from my holiday refreshed and ready to carry on with this story! Thank you again for the reviews, they've been such a treat to read since I got back earlier today! So I hope you enjoy the tenth chapter!**

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For the first time in six months, I laughed _with _humour. It had only been for a second, a moment of weakness when the sound escaped my lips. Peter had been holding onto my arm with both hands, gently moving me while both of my feet were on the board. I kept saying that I was going to fall, because it sure felt like I was. Peter then began to run, rolling me along with him, and I had shouted "No!" with a yelp of a laugh after. He then stopped, letting me walk on my own two feet even if my legs had turned to jelly.

Even in that split second I felt a fraction of myself that I thought I had lost.

I went home that night trying to suppress a smile. Peter came with me, showing off on his board as he did and claiming that I would be as good as him soon enough. But at long last we were at my door, my key sliding into the lock.

"Want me to hang around here for a while?" Peter asked, just like he had a few days ago. I thought about it for a moment, thinking that maybe some extra time with Peter would do me good. But then I decided against it, arguing that he still had no right to be in my home. No. He wasn't coming into my home, no way. So I shook my head and opened the door, turning to face him once inside.

"Thank you." I said, about to close the door. The palm of his hand landed on the door, keeping it from closing. Dammit, he was so strong!

"Will you be in school next week?" he asked, his voice hopeful. His eyes gleamed with so much hope, begging me for the answer he wanted to hear. I released a small sigh, looking away from his eyes.

"Maybe." I said, but my own voice sounding doubtful.

"Please?" he said, now sounding somewhat pleading. I cocked my head at him.

"Why do you want me to go so bad?"

"Because school's boring when you're not there."

"Are you ever going to tell me why you insist on being in my face all the time?" I demanded, placing a hand on my hip. He cracked a grin.

"Maybe, but here's a better question. Does it bother you?" I stared at him for a moment, absorbing his question, but also noticing how his voice rang a bell. It had been bugging me all evening, and I felt that the answer was so obvious that it was painful. But I just couldn't put my finger on why his voice nagged me to no end, especially recently. But that wasn't bothering me nearly as much as his question was, and my silent answer unnerved me.

_No. _

"Bye." I murmured.

"Bye." He said, smiling to himself. He knew my answer, even if I didn't say it out loud. I closed the door and went to my room, collapsing on my bed.

The weekend went by in a blur. I didn't exactly do much, but it went by far too fast. Martha had the Saturday off, but she didn't really engage in conversation with me, and vice versa. There was a reason for that. Rick had rung, leaving an answer phone message in his wake. I didn't know what it said and I didn't care, but I did know that it had a hard effect on Martha. On Friday night, when she got home, I heard the phone ring through my door, and then I heard the beep of the machine. Mumbling came through, and the next thing I knew, Martha was weeping in the living room.

She never told me what he had to say. I presumed it was something to do with maybe wanting his possessions back or something. Maybe he rang to be spiteful. Either way, it left Martha in a state, and Monday couldn't come fast enough.

I decided to go to school on Monday in the end. I wanted to believe that I went because I had nothing better to do and that I wanted to get out of the apartment. But deep down I knew the real reason. I'd see Peter again. When I got off the bus, he was there, ready and waiting at the entrance. He was talking to that blonde girl, watching as she jabbered away with an amused smile on his face. Hesitantly, I walked over, keeping my head down.

"Hey." Peter said in greeting.

"Hi." I murmured.

"I'll talk to you later, Pete." Said the blonde, smiling at both him and myself.

"Yeah, see you later, Gwen." _Gwen, that was her name. _I watched her retreating back, admired how her walk was so graceful. She was very pretty, I'd give her that. With brilliant blonde hair pulled up into a pony tail, a square fringe framing her face and light makeup against fair skin, she would have been admired by many of the girls in the school. I glared at her back, finding myself annoyed. People like her were the most annoying, the ones who always seemed to pull of perfection. You could say that I envied her grace and good looks, but I also knew that at the end of the day she was fake.

They were all fake.

Peter nudged me, pulling me out of my annoyed trance. I had had my hood up and he playfully pulled it down, hooking his elbow around my neck. I felt the surging impulse to duck from his touch and shove him away, his closeness yet again unnerving me. I could handle him poking me, I could handle his hands on my arm, hell, I could even handle the brief seconds that his arm had been around my waist, but this was pushing it. His scent was intoxicating, his strong arm pulling me into a sense of protection that I did not need. As he walked me into the building I was acutely aware of how close he was, his arm attaching me to his side, his leg brushing mine as he walked. I screamed in my head, begging for release, needing to get away, but I just couldn't work up the power to push him away.

Finally, after an excruciating minute of walking to and from the lockers, he let go so I could walk to my seat in class. I sat down with trembling legs, horribly aware of Peter's gaze. Why did he always insist on being so close? I had his scent whirling in my nostrils, a mix of lime and his own peculiar smell. It was on my cloths, my skin, so when he wasn't even next to me he was still there! Dammit, he was always there now. Always.

I desperately wanted to block him out for once so I simply listened to the drone of the teacher at the front. She rambled on about animal adaptation and I was instantly bored. Instead, I focussed my attention on the clock above the door, watching the hands move incredibly slow. For a moment, everything seemed normal for time was going slow again. For one blissful dark moment, I felt as I should have done.

Empty in a time that stood still.

"Now, I need you to partner up and answer these twenty questions on the board." The teacher's voice dragged me from what I wished was reality, and I felt my heart sink to my toes. I watched as students moved to their desired partners, sitting at the end of desks and bursting into chatter. Of course, Peter moved his chair to the end of my own desk, smiling smugly. I rolled my eyes.

"Don't look so disappointed!" he scolded, pouting at me. Against my will I grinned down at my desk.

"Don't look so smug then."

The teacher handed out sheets of paper, and she then began to write the questions on the bored. A sigh dragged from my lips and I rubbed my eyes with my fist. God, I couldn't be bothered for this crap! Peter dragged the piece of paper towards him with his fingertips, a pen in his mouth. I watched his hands intently. It was strange watching them. He treated the paper as delicately as he could, using the fingernails of his free hand to hold down the paper while he released it with the other. I also noticed how he deliberately avoided taking the pen from his mouth with his fingertips, using the length of his fingers instead. I swallowed, dragging my eyes down to my own hands, and I realised that my nails were digging into my palms.

Looking at the board, he began to scribble down the answers without hesitation. He had to wait for a while before he could continue, the teacher simply taking her time in writing the questions. No one else in the class had bothered to start yet. Thinking that Peter was happy doing the sheet himself, I opened my notebook in front of me and began to scribble here and doodle there. Peter caught the corner, and before I knew it, he was waiting for me to make a move on a Noughts and Crosses game. I raised an eyebrow at him. He offered a goofy grin in return, tapping the game with the tip of his pen. Sighing, I humoured him.

Three games later, all of which we drew, he met my eye.

"Wanna' answer the rest?" there were ten questions left, all of which were simple enough. Slowly, he pushed the sheet towards me with the end of his pen before folding his arms and leaving me to it. With little thought I answered them in about five minutes.

"So you do listen in class." He observed, smiling thoughtfully as he went over my answers.

"Not really." I said truthfully. "I only listened today."

"Fair enough." He grinned. "Back in a sec'." He got up and took the sheet to the front desk, waiting for it to be marked. When the teacher handed it back, he strolled back over and slid it carefully back onto my desk. Twenty out of twenty. That meant absolutely nothing to me. I yawned, glancing at the clock.

The class was about to end. For the next five minutes, Peter and I busied ourselves with four more games of Noughts and Crosses, and this time I won two and the other two we drew. It was comfortable to be this close to him now, his scent disappearing as I became immune to it. However, I was regrettably aware of his long leg touching mine, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. We engaged in small talk, going on about how easy the questions were. It was enough to try and distract me from what was bothering me under the table.

Finally, the bell went, and we all stood in unison to leave the room. We exited in a hustle, Peter latching onto my hoody so as not to lose me. In the corridor it was breezy, windows above the lockers hanging open on the somewhat sunny day. The sound of sirens swept in with the breeze, and I became very aware of how Peter suddenly went rigid beside me. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to make me raise my brows at him.

"Ah... I have to go, I have a... dentist appointment. Completely forget until now." He gave me a playful nudge. "I'll see you at dinner?" he ran off down towards the main entrance, leaving me standing there as the corridor began to empty. Frowning, I moved on. I openly admit I was slightly disappointed by his quick departure, but I was also left feeling incredibly suspicious.

He just got odder and odder by the day.

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	11. Ditcher

**Wow, two chapters in one day, must be a record for me! Thanks again for the reviews you guys! :D**

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Peter never did come back. I had gone to the back of the building where the benches were, hoping to see him waiting, but instead there were a bunch of kids chatting away at the bench we had sat at the previous week. I was left deflated, heaving out a sigh of heavy disappointment. And then I was furious with myself. I shouldn't have been disappointed with him not being present; I shouldn't have felt anything about the whole thing! For God's sake, I needed to get a damn grip of myself. I couldn't believe how much I was letting him affect me, and better yet, I couldn't believe I wasn't shoving him away from my damaged life!

I spent my dinner on the roof top of a nearby building, just like I used to. Only I didn't enjoy it nearly as much. I had grown used to not going up, and when I had the last time I had had company. Damn him. I found myself actually _longing _for Peter to be there, only I forced that inappropriate thought deep into the back of my mind. I refused to need him. I refused to think about him. I refused to want him sitting beside me and making me engage in conversation. But all I could focus on was the burning his touch had left around my neck and legs. He would never leave me alone, even when he wasn't there in person.

I was back in school now, walking down the corridor with my head low. I was hugging my notebook to my chest and my hood up, shielding my face. People parted in my wake, somehow sensing my annoyed mood. Good, the last thing I wanted was for someone to get in my way. But of course, there was always one annoying human who just wanted to be awkward. She wasn't looking where she was going, walking backwards as she appeared from around a corner, and she strode head long into me. Her books went all over the floor, my notebook flying from my grasp.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!" she said, and when I came to see her face I bit my tongue. The Gwen girl was gathering her books from the floor, hugging them to her chest. Numbly I went and picked up my notebook, hoping to make a hasty escape. However she beat me to it, her fingers clasping it gently into her grasp. We stood up at the same time, her smoky grey eyes boring into my own. She handed me the notebook, smiling sweetly.

"You're Claudia Thatcher, right?" I nodded stiffly. "I'm Gwen Stacy, Peter's friend." Her voice was high and sweet, making me cringe. I so badly wanted to yell at her, get away from her, _anything _but to have a conversation with her. But she was Peter's friend, and as much as he had annoyed me, I felt obliged to be civil with her.

"I know." I muttered, looking down at my feet.

"He talks about you a lot." she told me. "He said you're not much of a talker though." _I plan to stay being not much of a talker, too._

"Um, I should get to class..."

"I'll walk you there. Have you seen Pete on your travels, though? I haven't seen him since this morning." She began to walk beside me. It was almost too much to bear! I just hoped to God that she didn't try and link her arm into mine!

"No I haven't." I said, gritting my teeth. No, instead he decided to ditch me. I hated the nagging feeling in my gut that he had lied to me about his whereabouts, which I knew he had. So where had he gone? Why had he felt the need to lie to me? How was I supposed to trust him if he was going to _lie? _I _hated _liars, they were the worst kind. Once a liar, always a liar.

"Oh, well, when you see him tell him that I can't go out this weekend with him." She told me, and I felt my heart stammer. I swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden uneasy beat in my chest, trying to make sense of it. Weakly I nodded and she flashed a million dollar smile at me. She then began to strut down the corridor, leaving me dumbstruck outside of my classroom. Wait... how did she know what class I had? God, my day just got better and better.

By the end of the day, Gwen Stacy ran into me again. I was debating with myself as to whether get the bus or walk. The last few days I had walked home with Peter, but since he wasn't here, I had to reconsider. So, joys of joys, Gwen struck her opportunity. She came bounding by my side at the stairs of the school, suddenly looking like a little school girl. I fought the urge to screw up my face in disgust.

"No need to tell Pete about the weekend, I found him at the end of fourth class." She informed. I shouldn't have cared, I really shouldn't have, but knowing that she had bumped into Peter before me in the school made my blood boil.

"Cool story." I spat, glaring at the waiting bus. Should I stay or should I go? Peter was obviously around, but maybe he had finally got it into his head that I didn't need him... I hoped he hadn't. The mere thought made my heart sink, and I hated myself for it.

"So how's your day been?" she asked, ignoring my comment.

"Fine." _Not that you care. _

"Did you get an assignment in English?" she then asked, throwing me off course. Had I had English today? Ah yes, I had shoved the assignment into my locker without a second thought. I had no intention in completing it. Guess what it was about? We had to write a short story about romance. _Hell no_! However, I nodded to answer Stacy's question just to try and shut her up. "Maybe we could work on it together."

I never caught a break!

"I've gotta go." I watched my bus leave, finalizing my decision. It was going to be a lonely walk, but this Stacy was beginning to do my nut in!

"Let me know if you change your mind!" she called, her voice beginning to fade. Thank God! I walked through the little park that was behind the school building, filled with the kids from school either meeting or passing through. It was the only route I could see nearest to me from Stacy. Rushing through and making sure she didn't follow me, I slipped through the hedge into the main street.

"Nice to see you and Gwen getting along." Peter was at my side, appearing out of nowhere. I leapt out of my skin, gawping at him with raised fists. When it finally dawned on me that it was no threat, I glared daggers at him. I stormed off, wanting nothing more than to just get home and lock myself in my room. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up!"

"I have to get home, thank you very much." I snapped, looking both ways as I crossed the road.

"Did I do something to offend you or something?" and then I froze. I'd heard that before, heard it by someone who practically ruined my life.

"What did you just say?" I asked, my voice weak.

"Nothing." He said hastily. Swallowing, I tried to let it go, moving forward again. God, I needed a distraction.

"To answer your question, I know you lied to me today." And then he was in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. I glared up at him, watching as his hazel eyes dug deep into my own with an intention I couldn't understand. He was searching for something, but what that something was was beyond me. His mouth opened and closed, searching for the right words.

"The appointment took longer than expected." He said, and there was a certain truth to his tone. But he was still lying, all the same.

"Why are you lying to me?" I asked, my voice hurt. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm not." He said stubbornly. I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever, now move, I want to get home."

"Alone?"

"Yes! Alone!" I began to storm away but his hand caught my wrist.

"I'm sorry if you think I'm lying to you." he said softly. I yanked my wrist free, shoving past him. "Wait! Why are you so upset?" he came after me. Why was I so upset? Had he actually just asked that? He was lying to my face, he ditched me for an entire day, letting his little blonde girlfriend feed on information about my life, what wasn't to be upset about? I whirled, slamming my palms into his chest.

"Tell your little girlfriend to stay away from me! Stop lying to me! And next time you go gallivanting off into the city, give me a heads up!" he then stared at me for a moment, and slowly I watched the smile creep into his face.

"You missed me." he said simply.

"Did not."

"You so did!"

"Grow up!" he put his hand on his heart.

"I'm so flattered, made my day that has!"

"Screw you." I walked away, but I immediately felt the strain loosen up between us. I let go of his little stunt, seeing that it was pointless now that he had his mind set on teasing me. He took me home, thoroughly enjoying himself at pointing out my weakness of the day. I never admitted it, of course.

By the time we got to my apartment, I had a smile of defeat on my face. He punched the air in triumph, bouncing up and down like a little kid. And I laughed, longer this time, covering my face in embarrassment.

"There's no need to be embarrassed." He said, chuckling his head off.

"Go away." I said through my hands, but there was no threat behind the words. He leaned on my doorframe, folding his arms and watching me. I dragged my hands down my face, and suddenly all jokes fell aside. His face was suddenly serious, staring at me with far too much depth. I swallowed nervously.

"What?" I asked, suddenly feeling small. His eyes glanced at the door, and I knew what was going to come out of his mouth.

"Want me to stick around?" I took an intake of breath. It was true. I had missed him today, and I wanted him to make up for the time he had left me. But I just wasn't so sure if I was ready to trust him enough to let him into my world. My damaged, torn up world. And I was scared. If I let him in, would he judge? Would he approve of the bareness, the chilly air that myself and Martha always left behind? What about my room? What would he think of my black walls, my un-kept bed, and my photos of my family that lay face down on the shelves? I didn't want him to disappear, not now. Not when I had him so close. Sighing, I made up my decision. I opened the door and slipped inside, and Peter turned to leave.

"You coming?" I asked, and the smile on his face made my insides warm up.

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	12. Rick

**Next chapter. I hope you like this one, because I enjoyed writing it :D **

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I watched him from the door, gently clicking it shut behind me. He seemed so tall and powerful in my silly little apartment, his movements somehow stealthy as he made his way inside. He placed his hands in his pockets and seemed to take an intake of breath, looking around the room with curious eyes. I could practically hear the heavy thud of my heart in my chest, my better judgement screaming at me to throw him out. But then again, this was another test. A test for myself. If I could let this boy into my home, let him see the world I came home to, I could let him do anything. But I needed to know if he was committed; for I needed to be sure that he wouldn't run and leave me. This was the only way to prove it. If he was going to turn his back, I would rather it have been now.

He walked over to the sofa cautiously, stroking the back with delicate fingers. His eyes raked the walls, which were completely bare and cold. Martha had taken all the photos of our parents down weeks after I moved in, removing any kind of happiness trapped behind glass frames. They were in the back of her wardrobe, the wooden frames gathering dust. She had taken them down before I kept trying to rip them free myself. I had already smashed at least two, back when my rages were highest. Even today I could hear the shattering of the glass, the cries of Martha in her panic and the furious bellows of Rick. I closed my eyes, trying to rid the memories that had followed.

Screaming, punching, and scratching. Rick and I had really gone for one another's throats that night. It was the first time he ever laid a hand on me, trying to stop me from lashing out on his belongings, but he never expected me to retaliate. If I had had a weapon, I was sure I would have killed him. It was the first time he stormed out of the apartment, his face smothered in scratches and his neck dripping his own blood. I went to bed that night with an aching body, and the next morning I was plastered in blue bruises on my body. Unlike before, Martha let us try and kill the other, for she was too frightened and damaged to act upon what was happening.

Would Peter sense the violence that had gone on in this home? He shivered, and I believed that my question had been answered.

His eyes landed on the door of my bedroom, and he met my gaze.

"My room." I said, my voice stiff. He nodded to himself and then he went still, getting a feel of the room. Cold, empty, filled with the torment of the last six months. As his eyes raked the room, they fell of the window sill beyond the TV. There sat a photo Martha must have missed, a photo of herself under Rick's arm, gleaming at the camera. That had been taken long before I came along. Back when they had been happy together. Peter frowned and took it into his hands, wiping away the heavy layer of dust on the glass. He looked at me.

"Who's that?"

"Rick Hammond." I spat the word, falling like venom from my lips.

"You don't like him?"

"_Don't like _is an understatement." He placed the photo back where he had found it, strolled around the sofa and then leaned against the back of it. I clutched the hand of the door, my hands bringing in a cold sweat. Just his mere presence in my home had me in a nervous wreck. No one had come into our home since I moved in, so therefore no one knew about what went on behind closed doors. But here he was, soaking up the anguish of our lives like a sponge. His body language told me that he was not missing anything, feeling all the pain and emptiness, and it was all I could do to not demand why he wasn't running. He didn't belong in an environment like this. He stuck out like a saw thumb.

I came to realise the remarkable difference between us when it came to appearance. Sure, we were different genders. However, he was full of life, his skin radiating with health and his eyes sparkling with personality. He stood with a strong posture, standing confidently. His hair was always well kept, his skin always clean. And me? I looked like death, even I knew that. Pale, unhealthy skin framed by tatty brown hair, bags layering the skin under my sunken eyes, killing of any life that used to radiate from my ocean blue orbs. I always stood with uncertainty, my muscles always clenched with the anger that enveloped me. We were so different, and maybe getting him out of here would be best for him. But up to press he seemed reluctant to leave, giving me a sense of reassurance.

"Why not?" he asked, and I realised we had been deathly quiet for about five minutes.

"I'd rather not get into it." I murmured, looking down at the floor.

"Has he hurt you?" the question was bold, and I caught the hint of anger in his voice. I stared at him, stunned. Oh, how I wanted to tell him. How I wanted to explain the times that Rick had screamed at me, hit me, tried to force me to get out of the apartment in the past. But I couldn't. I _wouldn't. _So I ignored his question, and he came over to me, gripping my shoulders. Again, I felt the impulse to flinch away, but his closeness threw me off course.

"Has he hurt you?" he demanded again. I met his gaze, swallowing.

"Not as much as I've hurt him." I said, hissing the words. And suddenly, out of nowhere, he sighed and pulled me against him. I felt my eyes bulge from their sockets, my body stiffening in shock. I listened to his heartbeat, steady and soft in my ear. His chin was on my head, his hands rubbing my back as if trying to rid the pain that had been inflicted on me. I felt like crying, but I held myself in check.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. He was apologizing? Why?

"Why?" I choked. But he never answered. I pulled out of his embrace, gazing up at him with confusion in my eyes. He smiled, but it was sad. So very sad. Sad for me? Sighing, I stepped around him, walking over to the photo in the window and slamming the photo facedown. I glanced at the answer machine, and I had another message to listen to. Peter watched me silently as I pressed the button.

"_Going to be late. I'll be back about nine. There's pizza in the freezer." _Martha's voice was tight and to the point. I deleted it without hesitation.

"Are you alone a lot around here?" Peter asked, generally curious.

"Uh huh." I tossed my bag onto the counter.

"Don't you get lonely?"

"Not really. Martha and I don't get on so well." I told him, and instantly regretted it. _Why did I have to tell him that? _

"How come?"

"Long story." I paused. "Rick has a strong part of it." he accepted this with a nod. I watched as his eyes grew dark at the mention of Rick, saw how his jaw clenched as he grit his teeth. I was amazed at how quickly he had taken a dislike to a man he hadn't even met.

"He's left now, you know. He's not coming back." I told him, as if trying to reassure him. He looked at me.

"Left?"

"Martha left him. They were going to get married in the fall, until I came along. But finally it was either me or him, and she kicked him out happily." I explained, shrugging. "He's not coming back."

"Oh." But he wasn't satisfied. His fists clenched at his sides, and even _I _felt a little unnerved.

"He's not going to hurt me again." I told him quickly, taking a few steps towards him.

"No?" he met my eyes again, now on fire. I jumped over to him and touched his arm.

"No." And then I offered a tiny smile. "Want some pizza?"

Eight slices of pizza later, Peter looked at his phone. He frowned, disappointed. Until now we had sat in harmony, chewing on pizza slices and chit chatting about anything but my personal life. However, I did press for an insight of his. He wasn't one to give in. All I could get out of him was how his Aunt May seemed to be his world at the moment. I admired his love for her, and I immediately had a certain respect for a woman I hadn't even met. I got the sense that she was very protective of her nephew, but Peter spoke the world of her. And I couldn't help but enjoy the way he spoke of her. It nearly made me think that maybe there was still some humanity left in the world. Nearly.

But now Peter looked disappointed.

"I need to go in about half an hour, she's worried." He said, his voice sad.

"You're aunt?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "She doesn't like it when I miss dinner, especially when she's made meatloaf." I giggled, a soft sound that somehow lit his eyes. "That's such a nice sound, you know." He said, his voice softer than a feather's touch. And then I blushed, earning a goofy grin from him. No words needed to be spoken, that grin said it all. Damn him, he was embarrassing me a lot lately!

Standing, I took his plate from his lap. We had eaten on the sofa, occupying a cushion on either side and sitting out of reach from one another. I carried our plates to the sink, turning on the tap. He joined me, standing incredibly close. I held my breath, trying to block out his intoxicating scent. I noticed how tall he was, over a head taller than myself. He reached for the washing up liquid, squeezing the bottle so that the green liquid fell into the sink. He then grabbed the towel at the side on the counter, intending to dry while I washed. We did so, and when he took the tray that the pizza had cooked on from me, our hands touched.

We stood frozen for a moment, our flesh burning upon contact. He was doing that a lot to me now. Burning me with the simple touch. I couldn't wrap my head around as to _why. _And yet, the sensations of the heat were pleasurable, sending my stomach in a flurry of butterflies. Peter Parker was doing something to me, changing me, but I still wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing yet. Our eyes met, his mouth opening and closing slightly as if he was trying to stutter out some words.

"Where were you today?" I whispered. He swallowed, battling with himself. He wanted to tell me, I _knew _he did, but something was stopping him. My suspicion grew vastly. What was he hiding? What was so hard to say that he felt the need to lie to me? What was holding him back so much?

"I..." he whispered back, but he was unable to finish. Our hands were still touching, and his eyes landed on them. His Adam's apple rose and fell, and his hand suddenly moved towards my face. I flinched when his fingers grazed my cheek, but I didn't pull away. I sucked in a breath, the touch too surreal, as his fingers moved into the lining of my hair.

But he pulled away in a flash, because we heard a key being placed in the door on the other side. Martha wasn't due home for a few hours yet. Heart pumping, I stepped away from Peter and closer to the door, awaiting who I thought might be Martha coming home unexpectedly early.

It wasn't Martha.

The door opened, and Rick Hammond stepped inside.

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	13. Comfortable

**Guys, I love you all so much! The amount of support you are giving me is the highlight of my day! I never expected this story to be very popular, and if I could, I'd name everyone of you to say thanks, but there are too many of you! So thanks again, your feedback means the world to me! Enjoy the next chapter! PS, less of a cliffhanger since you guys thought I was so evil in the last chapter ;) **

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My heart sank to my toes and my blood boiled with rage. The one person who seemed to be the source of my hatred was back, and if he wasn't careful, I was going to kill him. He stepped inside warily, clearly not expecting the apartment to be occupied. His dark hair was matted, purple circles arching under his eyes. His cheek seemed raw, the scratches I had put there deep but scabbed over. It took all my willpower to not reopen those wounds. Behind me, I felt Peter stiffen in aggravation and he stepped forwards, standing incredibly close to me. I listened to his heavy breathing, suffering from a rage of his own that he kept in check. Rick's eyes landed on me and then on Peter, his eyes bulging.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his voice a growl. Peter grit his teeth, and without thinking I put myself in front of him somewhat defensively.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I spat, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.

"Where's Martha?" he snarled, his eyes darting around the room.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Tell me, you little sh-!" he was angry, that much was evident. That only doubled up my own rage. I saw how his body trembled beneath his suit, a black suit that made him look like a spy in some sense. Something had really tipped him off, and clearly my presence was the cherry on top. And then Peter stepped forward towards him, giving him a look of pure hatred. If only looks could kill. For a moment, I was frightened of him. I had never seen him so worked up, for he had only ever shown me the playful, kind-hearted side of him. But now, in this moment, I was so sure he was capable of murder. Even Rick, who was much bulkier and taller than Peter, swallowed back what must have been nerves. But then his eyes darkened, quickly shadowing any sign of fear he may have possessed.

"Don't speak to her like that." Peter sneered, his voice low and dangerous as he broke into Rick's sentence before he could finish that last word. My skin tingled, a shiver running up my spine.

"Shut you're trap, kid. How I speak to her is none of your damn business!"

"You're making it my business." And then Rick laughed, a low cackle in his throat as he glared down at Peter.

"Peter, you should go." I whispered, never looking away from Rick. Hastily, I pushed him towards the door, anxious to get him out of there. I wasn't about to let him earn a black eye as a souvenir from Rick Hammond. Rick could lay his punches on me, he could even lay them on Martha, but Peter was not an option. I _refused _to let him be an option. Opening the door, I pushed him forcefully outside. He turned, fright and anger in his eyes.

"I'll be fine." I told him.

"If you knew what was good for you, boy, you'd overlook this little bitch!" and then I stumbled, feeling the door slam open and Peter rammed through it. I staggered into Rick, instantly sickened, but Peter lunged for his throat like an animal gone made. I only just managed to move out of the way when Peter grabbed Rick's shirt in his fists, slamming him into the wall. I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing. There was something too familiar about how Peter handled Rick, slamming him into the wall like that. Like déjà vu. I blinked, getting a grip and coming out of my daze, and then I tried to pull Peter away. As much as I would have loved to see him beat the crap out of Rick, I wasn't up for the risk of him getting hurt.

Both men were breathing hard, both rigid with fury towards one another. It scared me, really scared me. When Rick lost it, he really lost it. He would beat Peter to a pulp!

"Peter, please, just go home!" I pleaded. God, why did I tell him about Rick? For a moment, he ignored my plea, too wrapped up in trying to glare Rick down. But he must have heard the panic in my voice, released Rick but not without another slam in the wall. Déjà vu again. Too dazed to wrap my head around it, I ushered him out, giving him a wistful look before closing the door. However, in a flash, he stuffed something into the front pocket of my hoody. Then he turned away, running his hands through his hair as he did.

I slammed the door shut to swirled to face Rick.

"You can hit me with pleasure, but I swear, if you try to hurt him, you're a dead man!" I screamed, barely aware of what came out of my mouth. A twisted grin formed on his lips, a grin that had always made the hairs on my body stand on end.

"Are you telling me that you actually _care _about someone?" he said mockingly, running his hands down his front to smooth his shirt. I stayed quiet, gritting my teeth as I battled to control myself. Part of me wished that Peter was still here, just so I could focus on him and not this bastard in front of me. But he wasn't, and that was how it should be. When Rick was concerned, no one interfered with him but me and Martha. Mainly me.

"What do you want?" I snarled, looking at him through my lashes.

"To talk to Martha." He said. "Where is she?"

"None of your business."

"It sure as hell _is _my business!" he grabbed my hair, pulling my head back and forcing me to look up at him. I winced, digging my nails into his arm. "Where is she?" his face was in mine, his breath in my face and making me want to puke. Alcohol, and lots of it. I smirked at him, suppressing a dark giggle.

"A little drunk, huh?" I said, noticing how his pupils kept changing size with the effects of the alcohol itself. He grimaced, clenching his eyes shut slightly as his head spun. In a flash, I brought up my knee and rammed it into his crotch, sending him to the floor. He moaned, curling into a ball. I bit my lip, so temped to kick him as if he were a football, but I thought better of it. He wasn't worth my energy when he was drunk.

Carefully watching him, I walked over to the phone and punched in some numbers, holding it to my ear.

"Martha? Your fancy man is here to see you."

Half an hour later, Martha came through the door. The door bumped into Rick, who was now passed out of the floor. Sitting on the counter, I watched the shock cross her face.

"What in the actual hell?" she gasped, stepping over Rick's crumpled form on the floor. She stared at me, mouth agape and eyes threatening to pop out of her head. In other circumstances, the expression would have had me laughing. But Rick had annoyed me, and all I could do was glare down at his unconscious form.

"He came looking for you. He's smashed, too." I said flatly.

"Oh, _please _tell me you didn't kill him!" now I did laugh.

"Please! I wish I had!" I said, running a hand through my hair. "He was an ass. Grabbed my hair and what not, so I kicked him where the sun doesn't shine." She gaped at me, dumbstruck. I shrugged. "Self defence."

"For God's sake." But, remarkably, she wasn't annoyed at _me! _Wow! Looking exasperated, she shoved her hands under his armpits and dragged him towards the sofas. Silently laughing at her struggles, I hopped down from the counter and picked up his legs, both of us heaving him onto the sofa. We stood side by side, frowning at the man who was now drooling onto our cushions. Did I ever mention he was a pig, too? Well, he was. A violent, controlling, alcoholic pig. _I _made him all those things, but in actuality he had never really been a good man.

"What did I ever see in this man?" Martha whispered, utterly disgusted. I snorted on a laugh, mimicking her disgust.

"Beats me." I said. She looked down at me and then frowned. "What?"

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice concerned.

"Yeah, why?" I asked, generally confused.

"He hurt you." she stated, and I didn't miss the darkness in her tone. Geez, she really was on my side. I rubbed my head, which was burning from where Rick had grabbed me. Scratching my scalp I rolled my shoulders.

"Nah, I did most of the damage." I told her.

"I've had enough." She spat. "Once he sobers up, he's out for good." Releasing an aggravated sigh, she went to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. Distantly, her voice tiny, she asked if I wanted a coffee.

"Yes please." I murmured. Then I frowned to myself. Had I just been _polite _to my _sister? _Martha also caught that, snapping her head up at me. Normally I never answered when she offered, and she only ever offered out of habit. But right now she didn't comment on it, simply smiling to herself as she grabbed two cups. Honestly, at this moment in time, I couldn't care less that I had let my guard down. In my pocket, I pulled out a piece of paper Peter had put there before leaving. Ten digits were scrawled on the paper in rough writing, telling me that it was his cell phone number. Staring at it, I wasn't aware of Martha's eyes on me.

"What's that?" she asked. Quickly, I shoved it back into my pocket.

"Nothing." I said, and I strolled over. She popped in some coffee grindings and two sugars into the mug, pulling the milk from the fridge and pouring in a small amount. I was stunned to realise she remembered how I had my coffee. It had been so long since she had last made me one. Looking at me, she smiled.

"Don't look so surprised, I'll always know how you have your coffee." She said and she poured in the hot water. She slid the mug into my waiting hands. After making her own she took a sip and gazed at me, her face puzzled.

"What?" I asked.

"You seem... different." She murmured, looking at me over the brim of the mug. I avoided her eyes, staring at the steam rising from my own mug. "I'm sorry you had to go through that with Rick on your own."

"It doesn't matter." I said quietly. I wasn't alone. Peter had been there. I just finished the job.

"It does. I'm sick of him hurting you."

"He's hurt you, too." I pointed out, meeting her gaze.

"I'm the one who is supposed to be protecting you. I should be the one to take all of the punches, not half." My heart fluttered at her words, and for once, I found myself believing them. For once I found that I didn't have the strength to repel her anymore. She finally saw Rick for what he really was. That was good enough for me.

"Or, even better, neither of us take them."

I found myself feeling comfortable in Martha's presence, leaning on the counter as we drank our coffees. The air between us was cool, but not deathly cold like normal. Tolerable. I let my mind wonder, back to just before Rick made his unwelcome arrival. When Peter had his hands on my cheek. I touched where his fingers had been, the fire wearing off slightly. What was that boy doing to me? Whatever it was, I found myself enjoying it immensely. But my suspicions of him were continuing to rise. He was something else entirely, and sooner or later, I was going to find out what he was hiding from me.

Even if it killed me.

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	14. Stacy

**I was over the moon when one of you guys said my update was the best birthday gift! Made me laugh and I'm glad I could help! Happy Birthday for yesterday alissasaur! :D So here you go guys, chapter 14! PS, Claudia will be finding out a certain secret very soon ;)**

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The week went by in a blur. Again. Martha stuck to her word, and in the earlier hours of Tuesday morning she kicked Rick out before he could give an explanation. He begged with her to hear him out, claiming he wanted to start over with her, but she was having none of it.

"Claudia comes first, so deal with it!" were her exact words. She shoved him out of the door and I gave an overly excited wave in his direction, a grin plastered on my face from where I sat on top of the counter. The only reason he wanted her back was because he needed somewhere to stay. Half of his money was in Martha's account, and she was refusing to give any of it back. He was living in hotel rooms, and if he kept it up, he'd have no money and would end up living with his mother. A man like him wanted to keep his dignity intact, and living with his mother was apparently not the way to go. Poor bastard. I was tempted to feel sorry for him, but I found the situation too hilarious to care. Karma had really bit him on the ass!

When it came to school, Peter was extra 'in my face' on Tuesday morning. Not that I cared. He kept demanding if Rick was out, if he hurt me, if he was sticking around. I found the situation quite funny, really. I didn't tell him about the hair pulling, but the kicking of the crotch story seemed to satisfy him. He didn't need the details; he just needed to know that I knew how to handle a jerk like Rick, a drunken Rick at that. Once he was happy that I was okay he eased up a bit.

Friday rolled around, and Peter wasn't in school. It threw me a little, especially when I saw that Gwen Stacy was waiting on the steps in his place. She rocked on her heels, waiting for me in anticipation. I strode past her, my heart beating erratically. _Go away, go away, go away, go away..._

"Pete told me to tell you he isn't going to be in until dinner." Her voice was high and happy, a singsong voice of your typical high school girl. She followed me into the building, hugging her books to her chest as she babbled away. "He said he's really sorry. So, I thought how about I keep you company for while, until he gets back? I know that you two are close now..."

"Who said anything about us being _close?" _I demanded, halting and turning to stare at her. She merely smiled a brilliant smile at me, her pink lips parting to reveal perfect teeth. Ah, the wonders of the orthodontist these days. Cringing, I looked away, moving on.

"Well, you're always together-"

"Because he won't leave me alone."

"_and _he goes on about you like, all the time! He speaks of you as if you were his best friend, bless him."

"Are you _ever_ quiet?" she ignored the comment completely.

"Have you started that English assignment yet?" she asked briskly.

"Nope." I made a popping sound at the end of the word.

"Why not? It needs to be handed in at the end of this month! Three weeks! It needs to be at least three pages long!" her voice had turned shocked, and I instantly got the vibe that she was a goody two shoes. _God dammit, why wasn't she leaving me alone? _

"I'm not doing it." I told her, hoping to shut her up.

"_What?_"

"Hey, it's not like _you're_ going to lose points on getting the Goody Two Shoes Of The Year award!" I snapped, scoffing under my breath.

"Okay, calm down Miss Crabby." She said, but her voice held no trace of offense of annoyance. I felt like smacking my head against the wall. In a way, she was just a persistent as Peter, but she was just so... _annoying! _But at the same time I couldn't bring myself to actually tell her where to go. If I upset her, Peter would hear about it and I was pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate me yelling at one of his friends. Sighing I turned to face her, looking her fully in the eyes.

"You're not going to leave me alone are you?" I said.

"Nope." She mimicked my earlier popping noise. I clenched my eyes shut and controlled my breathing. _She's Peter's friend, be nice!_

"Do me a favour?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Try and tone it down a little on the talking." She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, biting her lower lip.

"What is it with little people being mean?" now I rolled _my _eyes, and I continued down the hall. "Still, I really think you should start that assignment. It will boost up your grades in no time, and it won't be hard to write-"

"Less talking!"

At long last, after three lessons consisting of pure boredom, dinner rolled around. The sun was beaming down on the school grounds, burning my skin and I couldn't stand the heat inside my hoody. I sat out on the usual bench, sitting on top while Gwen sat at my feet. She _had _toned it down on the talking, thank god, and right now she was too busy chewing away at her apple. I folded my hoody on my lap, feeling somehow naked without it on. Beneath I was only wearing a plain blue t-shirt, a clingy one at that, so it felt as if I had no top on at all. I rubbed my arms self-consciously before deciding to take out my own sandwich, nibbling on it silently.

Gwen's eyes swept over me, making me feel like I was sticking out like a sore thumb. She merely smiled.

"You should keep that thing off more often." She said, sitting cross legged on her seat. "Show of your shape a little."

"I feel naked." I said flatly. I fanned my face, hoping to cool off a little. There was no breeze around here! Gwen giggled, a soft sound in her throat.

"You look fine." she said. She thought for a moment, her smile growing as she did.

"What, got something to say Barbie?" I asked, frowning.

"I was just thinking. In a few weeks it's the summer dance here at the school. I was thinking it would be fun to go." She told me, her eyes sparkling.

"No way."

"Why not? We could go shopping and get dresses for it." she said, now beaming at the idea. Oh, God help me. She certainly struck as the kind of person who always followed through with an idea, no matter what. But there was no way I was going to the dance. If I was, she'd be dragging my corpse along. Maybe she could play dress up, too. I smirked to myself, already picturing the dark comedy of it. But then I shivered. _Dancing. _The mere word made me want to cringe in disgust. I was never a dancer. Never. Not when I was a kid and certainly not now. And I didn't wear dresses... not now anyway.

"Do you take delight in my idea of Hell?" I asked, utterly disgusted.

"Absolutely! Dancing, drinks, music, dresses, what's not to like?"

"I find staring out my window more entertaining."

"Then you need to get out more."

Suddenly, Peter came into our line of view, grinning when he spotted us. I gave him a look of defeat and he laughed.

"Hey guys." He greeted, perching beside Gwen.

"Have fun with your Aunt's doctor's appointment?" Gwen asked, grinning.

"It was like trying to bath a dog." He said, running his hands down his face. "Took me an hour just to get her out of the house."

"What's wrong with her?" I asked, finding myself concerned.

"Oh nothing, it was just a check up." He told me, smiling. I thought for a moment then. I was amazed at myself. I was actually socializing with more than one person. This Gwen Stacy, as talkative and persistent as she was, was quite tolerable. I reasoned with myself that if Peter could get on with her then so could I. I refused to admit that I _enjoyed _her company, because I sure as hell didn't!

Things between me and Peter were back to normal. He hardly touched me after our exchange in my apartment, purposely keeping his hands to himself. He wouldn't look me in the eye, either, which was rather annoying. I got the horrible feeling that he was pulling away from me. Had the whole Rick thing scared him away? Apartment from on Tuesday, he was careful not to bring the whole event up. The mere mention of Rick's name had his body trembling. But did he really feel the need to pull away from me, just like that?

"So what'd I miss?" asked Peter, looking at us curiously.

"Not a lot. We were just talking about the summer dance."

"No, _you _were talking about the summer dance." I corrected sternly.

"Princess Of No Life here refuses to go." Gwen said, pouting like a child. I grinned darkly at her. Having no life was a hell of a lot better than going to a fricking dance!

"You should go. It'll be fun!" Peter said enthusiastically.

"Over my dead body."

"Spoil sport." Gwen muttered, nibbling away at her apple.

The bell shrilled and the three of us parted ways for class. However, I watched how Peter and Gwen went to their own class, taking the same one, and I envied how Peter wrapped his arms around her slender shoulders and tugging her into his side. It was all friendly but the pang of jealousy I felt had my head reeling. I went into my classroom alone, feeling numb with disappointment. Why I was letting this bother me so much was beyond me. I didn't _own _Peter. Peter could do what he wanted and interact with anyone he pleased.

I didn't know why I was jealous. I _never _got jealous. The last time I got jealous was three years ago. Martha had got a dress. It was stunning in my eyes, a beautiful light blue one shoulder dress. The left side had a polyester sleeve, the dress fitting to every curve of the body. It barely reached half way down the thigh, and in the right had side at the waist was a cut out effect, surrounded by shimmering diamond like studs. I envied her and wanted that dress so badly, but she had earned it with her own money for a party of her friend's. And that was jealousy over a dress, not a human!

I was not the same girl from over three weeks ago.

By the end of the day, I was fed up and wanted nothing more than to get home. I was hoping to avoid Peter completely, but sure enough he was at the doors and already waiting. Out of habit he followed me on my way home, but I twirled and faced him.

"Can I just go home alone today?" I asked, pulling my hoody over my head.

"Huh? Why?" he sounded confused.

"I just want to walk alone." I said.

"Did I upset you?"

"No, no." I said too quickly. He raised a brow, not convinced. Hell, it didn't even convince _me. _Swallowing I made a hasty retreat, but his voice stopped me.

"Why haven't you called?" he sounded disappointed.

"I've been busy." _Busy going out and sitting on my apartment roof top. _I had spent that past several nights up there, just until Martha got home. I had missed it up there. Lately, it just didn't occur to me to go up there, but it was the only place to go that could help clear my thoughts. I had thought about ringing Peter, sitting up there and staring at his number, but I couldn't bring myself to dial them. What would I say?

"Sure you have."

"Don't say it like that!" I snapped, hating him for judging me on the spot. He held his palms up in surrender.

"Easy. I'm just saying." he said. I rolled my eyes at him.

"See you tomorrow." I murmured, walking past him.

"Call me." I paused, letting his words sink in. However, when I looked over my shoulder he was gone.

Oh boy.

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	15. Past

**Last chapter of the day! Now, I've decided to treat you guys with a chapter consisting of more Peter/Claudia :) And honestly, in the next few chapters, things will become clear between the two and Claudia will finally figure out who Peter is! Just be very patient! :D Thank you again for all the support! **

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The phone was annoying me. I was having a staring competition with it, and the phone was winning. I sat with my legs crossed in the centre of my bed, clutching the phone in my hands. Peter's number was already punched in and all I had to do was press the green button. _Press it, press it... for God's sake press it! _Martha wasn't going to be home for another hour, leaving me alone to my thoughts and this damn phone. I was sick of my thoughts. All I could think about what Peter, his arm wrapped around Gwen, holding her close to him. That image alone had my heart racing in envy, had my stomach in a flurry of butterflies. What was _wrong _with me? I had been so used to feeling numb, so used to feeling nothing but hatred, so all these knew feelings had my head spinning.

There was only one set back. He wasn't being completely honest with me.

And these feelings, whatever they were, was he feeling them too?

I tapped the phone on my chin, puffing out a breath. Why couldn't I just press the button? What could be the harm in it? Oh, there could be plenty of harm! What was I supposed to say to him? He always started the conversations. What if he blew me off? That was my greatest fear at this point. He was already beginning to distance himself, what if it got to the point where he didn't want to see me anymore? Maybe he wouldn't want to talk to me. Maybe he just told me to call him on impulse. Dammit, I wanted to talk to him though!

Finally, I pushed my thumb down on the button and held the phone to my ear.

"I knew you'd call." His voice was pleased, a little distorted over the line. The grin that spread on my face lifted all my spirits. He had answered on the second ring.

"Hi." I said quietly. I could hear his smile on the other end.

"Come to the Skate Park." He told me, however he said it as if it were a question.

"Now?"

"Sure. Be here in fifteen." He hung up. He had had this planned since I told him I wanted to go home alone. His last attempt to get me alone. He was good, so very good. And how could I resist? He had me wrapped around his little finger, and no matter how big my suspicions grew, there was no way I could keep away from him. Not now, not ever.

Within ten minutes I was out of the apartment, jogging through the crowds in the direction of the Skate Park. The crowds didn't bother me, for I had only one thing on my mind. Once I got there, I paused and watched him do some tricks on his board, flipping it effortlessly under his feet. Like our last visit the place was empty, the sun beginning to set behind the skyscrapers. And then he spotted me, raising his hand and waving me over. He was wearing a thin hoody of his own, a zip-up grey one that fit his figure. His jeans were baggy but fit him nicely, his converse shoes starting to become a little worn. I jogged over to him.

"Record time." He said, grinning. I giggled, playfully snatching the board from under his feet with my own.

"You said I was going to be as good as you one day." I reminded him. He flashed me a goofy grin. He came behind me, holding me in place by my arms as I got onto the board. Everything felt so natural between us, especially when we were alone. I hoped he knew what he had done to me. I wondered what he had done with the old me, the hateful me. Oh, she was there, but he had sanded off my rough edges. How he had done it was beyond me. Time with him went by in a blur, and I couldn't make sense of when I had hated him and when I had wanted him. I wanted to know how I had come to trust him the way I had.

He made me feel alive again.

We gave up with the board after half an hour. Instead we sat on one of the slopes, soaking up the last of the sun. I had taken my hoody off and used it as a pillow, my face and arms soaking up the heat of the air. Peter lay a couple of feet away, his sleeves rolled up and his hood pulled over his head and half way down him face. For a moment I thought he was asleep. He looked peaceful and it was hard to believe he was the dangerous boy who went up against Rick not a week ago. He just seemed so natural.

We were silent for a long time, a comfortable silence that nearly sent me to sleep. My eyes were closed, a mix of oranges and reds from the sun reflecting behind my lids. I sighed, completely at ease. I felt safe in my own skin, felt so sure of myself. Three weeks ago I would have been in a dark alley somewhere doing graffiti. It had been my passion. But now, lying here in the fading sun, I couldn't have been happier. For a moment, I forgot Peter was beside me, but his voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"You look good." He said. I frowned, my eyes still closed.

"Huh?"

"Something about you looks better." I heard the smile in his voice. "For a start, you have no bags under your eyes." I couldn't help but smile. "And you smile a lot more."

"You're to blame for that." I murmured. He chuckled.

"Open your eyes." He whispered, his breath in my ear. I shuddered, his breath tickling down my neck. I opened my eyes. I jumped out of my skin, his face inches from mine. He was on his side, leaning on his elbow as he leaned over me slightly. His hazel eyes were captivating, unreadable and yet holding all the secrets of his life. His smell enveloped me, making my head spin. He was so close that his hair tickled the skin of my forehead, the breath coming from his nose heating my lips. I blinked several time, swallowing heavily. And then I asked him a question I had been wanting to ask for a while.

"Where are your parents?" I whispered, watching his expression. His expression didn't change but his eyes spoke a thousand words. Pain, hot pain, radiating what I used to feel every day, what I still feel in the moments before I drift off to sleep. He closed his eyes, his lashes kissing the skin of his cheekbones. He moved away, lying on his back and staring into the sky. I turned my head and watched him, hoping to get an insight of his past.

I did.

"I was six years old when they died." He told me, and my heart went out to him. "They took me to my Aunt and Uncle's house, said I would be staying there for a while. I wanted to go with them, but my dad wouldn't let me. So they left, and I watched them leave through the front door. I thought they would come back and take me home. But in years to come, I learnt that they died in a plane crash." He looked at me, his eyes sunken with sadness. "I've lived with my Aunt ever since."

"And your Uncle?" I asked quietly. He didn't answer, and I had the respect to not press him. I saw how he grit his teeth at the world 'Uncle', and it was evident that something terrible had happened down the line. And he wasn't ready to tell me, so I refused to beg him to tell me.

"Do you know why I am they way I am?" I asked, looking at the red and orange clouds now. I saw him look at me from the corner of my eye. "It's because I could have saved my parents. But I let fear get in the way." He absorbed my words silently, but he slowly took my hand in his. It sent a shiver through me and I took a small intake of breath, relishing the feel of his fingers weaving between mine.

And finally I understood. Peter was a damaged soul, too, just like I was.

"Claudia?" he murmured fifteen minutes later, his voice caressing my name.

"Hmm?"

"Do you trust me?" the question was so simple, so easy to answer. And I was going to answer as truthfully as possible.

"Nearly." I said. I was so close to trusting him completely, but there were things he was still hiding from me, and even if he wasn't ready to tell me, it didn't make up for the lies he had conducted.

"Fair enough." He said, the smile clear in his voice. "Are you going?"

"Going where?"

"The dance." He looked at me, his eyes now full of anticipation. I gave him an apologetic smile, slowly shaking my head.

"No way." I said.

"Why not? You don't even have to dance." He whined, sitting up and looking down at me.

"You say that now." I smirked, raising an accusing brow.

"I stick to my word, unless you want to make a few changes."

"_No_." But we both chuckled, and I too sat up.

"To tell you the truth, I'm much of a dancer either. I'm only going because Gwen wants me to." _Urgh, Gwen. _

"Oh." I said flatly, not sure of what else to say.

"You two seemed to get on well today." He said, looking at me with a face of curiosity. Curiosity of what, however, was beyond me.

"She didn't give me much of a choice." I told him, rolling my eyes to the sky.

"Why didn't you just go all Claudia Thatcher on her?" he asked, his voice teasing. My eyes rolled again, this time with my head as I looked at him.

"I made a promise to myself to be nice to her, since she's your friend and all." I explained, although my voice could have been a lot more enthusiastic. But he merely laugh, releasing my hand and wrapping his arm around me. A surge of excitement coursed through me, for I had wanted him to do that ever since I saw him do it with Gwen. Here, now, was the first time he had touched me all week.

"I appreciate the gesture." He said. The sun was completely gone now, and the sky began to darken into the dangerous periods of time in New York. I released an agitated sigh.

"I should get home.

" I murmured, watching as the stars began to make their appearance.

"Same. I'll walk you home."

We stood in unison, Peter collecting his board in one hand and grasping my hand with the other. He wove his fingers between mine again, locking me to him. However, my mind was in turmoil at his revelation of his parents. I wanted to know more about them. I wanted to comfort Peter, no matter how long ago he had lost his parents. I wanted to repay him for all he had done for me.

"Do you miss them?" I asked quietly as we walking into the main streets of the city. He knew exactly who I was talking about.

"I never really knew them. But I do miss them. The main thing I want in life is to understand what happened to them and why." He spoke calmly, openly, completely trusting me with this knowledge. I felt heartbroken for him. He had been so young when he lost them, so helpless. I could picture it now, a young Peter Parker watching the back of his retreating father, forever wondering why he left him.

"I'm sorry, Peter." I meant it. He looked down at me and smiled. I smiled back. He may have been young and helpless back then, but he was now stronger than any man I have come across. I was so sure that they would have been proud of their son, no matter how many secrets he possessed. But now I had something to link us both.

Two damaged souls, trying to get on with life.

One of us strong, one of us weak, and I was so sure that we were stuck with one another. After all, opposites attract.

Not that I was complaining.

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	16. Mirror

**A little of Claudia's past is in this chapter :D Again, as I say in every chapter, thank you so much for the support! Enjoy!**

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I stared at my hand, enduring the sensation of Peter's lingering touch. I wished deeply that his hand was still there, locking me to him and promising to never let me go. But instead I lay on my bed, completely alone and shallow. I could not rid the images of Peter, looking like a young child in my mind, watching his father leave him behind. It broke by heart, the fact that he became orphaned at such a young age. But then again I envied him. He had had a lucky escape of the grief at the time, not knowing what it was like to have your parents die at your feet. I also envied his strength, how he could look everyone in the eye and smile freely. He was everything I wanted to be, but was too afraid to be. I _couldn't _be who I used to be again. If I let my guard down and be as naive as I used to be, I was sure that life would crush down on me a second time and finish me off.

I thought about the old me, the girl who I used to be over six months ago. I would look in the mirror from time to time, and beyond the broken girl was the ghost of the old me who died with my parents. I used to smile a lot. I used to wear anything that wasn't baggy on me. Colour used to bloom in my face and my eyes used to sparkle with life. I used to be photogenic, always beaming in a photo with friends who were now no more. I used to have many friends; Chloe Taylor, Jennifer Goldstraw, Amanda Smith, Chris Anderson, Richard Gold, Bessie Jones and so many more. We used to go out together every weekend to see a movie or hang out around the neighbourhood. But, like all the other bastards in the human race, they left me when I needed them most. I pushed them away and they fled with pleasure. I still saw them around school, but they always pretended that I didn't exist. And to be honest I wanted nothing to do with them.

When it came to my personal life, I had never been able to say a bad thing about anyone. Even Rick, who was wrapping Martha around his little finger, was tolerable for me. I never had a bad bone in me. I used to smile at strangers in the street, I used to give some money away to homeless guys on the street. If I ever had a bad thing to say about someone, I kept my mouth shut. I used to be God's little saint.

And now I gave Satin a run for him money. Or at least I used to.

Thinking, I got up and went into the bathroom, staring into the mirror. There she was, the girl I used to be. Her hair brilliantly wavy with a shimmering shine, long lashes framing my eyes, full pink lips pulled over perfect teeth in a dazzling smile. She was always there, haunting me, begging me to bring her back. But she was always shadowed by a version of death, and she would never be able to escape through the pain I still endured.

Peter may have been helping, but he was more of a form of aspirin. He numbed me, but he couldn't cure me. Not yet.

At times like these I felt like punching the mirror with my own fist. It was that naive, weak girl that had had my parents killed. She had had this whole other life, a life where nothing bad ever happened, a life where she didn't feel the need to protect herself with violence. She lived in a world of friends, fashion, makeup and boys. And all of those hobbies had died with her.

I wondered about what my parents would think of me now. I knew that they would have been disappointed in me and the person I had become. I was so sure that they wouldn't even recognise me as their own daughter if they saw me now. Their little princess, now embarking in a life of violence, graffiti and rejection. A life without love, only hate. But then again, what would they think of the girl I was becoming? Would they think of me as weak, or would they be glad? What would they think of Peter, the boy of many mysteries invading my life?

What would, what would?

God I missed them. I missed them so much. Every morning I could see mom, grinning down at me, her hair curtaining her face and kissing the skin of my cheeks. But that was only her ghost, the weight on my shoulders that made itself known to me to torment me. When I looked at Martha, I could see dad, but only for a moment. Sometimes I could hear their voices, a agonizing pleasure in my heart. But the days were coming now that I couldn't remember what they sounded like, so when their voices of the past did cradle my mind, I relished it with all my heart. Each night, I could feel my mother's kiss on my cheek, the soft touch of my father as he stroked my hair.

They never left me, and that only made the guilt ten times heavier.

My mind travelled to the night of the killings, cutting forward a few hours. I could remember it clear as day. Barely fifteen minutes after my parents' death, the police arrived. A woman with short blonde hair and gently pulled me to my feet and tucked me in her police car. She had driven me to the police station, driving in utter silence as she felt the weight of my shock and fright. Once at the police station, people surrounded me, shouting questions at me, demanding what happened. One bastard even demanded if _I_ had killed them. But I couldn't speak, couldn't move, and the officers with the decency to care took me away to clean my hands. They even let me sleep. But hours later they shoved me in a questioning room, two men demanding what happened in the alley. I had told them, all the while thinking of the blood swirling down the drain.

And then, after my questioning, Martha and Rick had come to collect me. I could remember Martha's face, deathly pale and her eyes rimmed with the redness of tears. She had had her hair tied up, hugging herself while Rick had his arm around her. Numbly, I had walked into her waiting embrace, her slender form taking me into her arms and leading me out of the police station. Rick made no effort to comfort me. He completely ignored me. From that moment I had hated him, for he seemed more _annoyed _to be there than horror struck. Yes, from that moment on, I felt the last shreds of my former self shatter in a million pieces. She was beyond repair.

And as I stood there staring into the mirror, I could feel my heart beating uncontrollably fast. I hated that man with every ounce of my being. If he died, I would have flown to the moon and back in glee. He was a man of many words, none of them good. How Martha had fallen in love with him was beyond me, even to this day.

Suddenly, I found it incredibly stuffy in the apartment. Needing some air I strode out of the door, locking it behind me and then leaving the building. I was quite comfortable just walking and being alone, moving through the thin crowd without a bother. I let the lights of the city comfort me, enduring its deceiving beauty. The smell of fumes, food and human odour hit my nose, giving me a strong sense of the reality in New York. The noises of the people and vehicles deafened me, but I simply couldn't find the will to care.

I passed the opening of an alley way, only to pause in my wake. A man stumbled in the shadows, his movements indicating that he was out of his head. High or drunk? Either way, he looked extremely familiar. My gut did a painful twist, telling me to keep walking. But he was someone too familiar and he seemed pretty set on getting away from watching eyes. He moved along the wall, his hand caressing the bricks for balance. Looking around to make sure no one was watching me, I slinked into the shadows with a frown. Edging closer, I squinted to get a look of his face. Then my eyes widened.

_Rick!_

In his hand was what looked to be a bottle of whisky. He took a swig of it, tipping his head back to get the last few drops. Then he lobbed the bottle on the wall opposite him, the glass shattering into a thousand pieces. I flinched, some of the glass scattering in my direction. I sunk into the shadows, hugging the wall in an attempt to stay hidden.

Rick made his way further into the alley, staggering on unsteady feet on his way. I followed him, my frown set. My gut told me that he was up to something, and it was nothing good. Swallowing back the lump of nerves in my throat, I walked after him, keeping a safe distance between us.

In any other circumstances, I would have found him pathetically hilarious. The way he walked, the shocking mess his hair was in, the way his body shuddered with the vomit that was growing in his throat. He doubled over a couple of times, vomiting his guts up. The sick covered his shoes and he shook his feet free of it. I held my hand to my nose, fighting the urge to heave myself. Disgusting waste of space!

We walked for a good twenty minutes, zigzagging here and there constantly. We passed many houses, factories, and the back of restaurants. At one point a door slammed open, a chef chucking out a load of trash into the alley. I narrowly escaped the light of the kitchen, fleeing in a panic. The chef sounded foreign, shouting at his fellow chefs and slamming the door shut again. Holding my breath I watch Rick turn back, looking at what the hell was going on. His vision must have been blurred for he made no indication of seeing me, and then he continued on his way to his destination.

The area was growing more and more unfamiliar with every step. I was suddenly feeling frightened, the area holding a dark atmosphere that gave my apartment a run for its money. And finally, Rick stopped, slamming his fist on a metal door of what looked to be a warehouse.

"Jacky, open up!" he bellowed, his speech slurred. I watched from a corner a few meters away, peeking around with heavy cautiousness. Slowly, I pulled my hood over my head, hoping to hide my form more effectively. A man in a leather jacket opened the door. I couldn't see his face for it was shielded by the shadows, but his voice was thick in the air.

"Jesus, man, you're smashed!" he said, his voice gruff. He sounded as if he was chewing on some gum. More men appeared in the door way, laughing as they flooded out into the alley.

"Aup Boss!" one said, slapping Rick on the shoulder.

"Need a coffee, Boss?" another said, chuckling his head off.

"Still not made up with the Thatcher girl, huh?" my heart skipped a beat at the mention of my family name, and a certain protectiveness stirred up in my gut. My nails dug into the bricks in anxiety. Who were these guys?

"No, thanks to that little rat bag." Rick stuttered, struggling to get his words out.

"Shame." Said the guy chewing gum, his voice anything but caring.

"We need the cash, Boss."

"I _know. _The bitch is on the kid's side now." Rick said. Then he doubled over, puking again. The men laughed, slapping him on the back.

"She really messed you up, man." Gummy boy said, and Rick cursed at him. "Wouldn't it be easier to just, you know, kill her?"

Suddenly I couldn't breathe. Kill her? Martha? I backed away, suddenly absolutely terrified. I could just about hear their voices.

"Get inside, man, sober up." They laughed again. My heart was in my throat, choking me. I mentally kicked myself, for I knew that I was letting fear get in the way yet again. I needed to run. I needed to get out of there. I needed to bolt and get to Martha! Once I heard the door close, I bolted in the way I had come.

And crashed straight into the body of a man.

"It's rude to spy." He said, his voice low and deadly. I worked up a scream, but he grabbed my hair in his fist. "Guys, we got a live one here!"

And then his foot came down into my stomach, sending me to the ground.

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**You know what to do! :D**


	17. Secret's Out

**This is it for tonight, guys, didn't want to leave you hanging! Now that would be cruel ;)**

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Pain. Pain everywhere. This man, he was kicking the crap out of me. I couldn't breathe. I thought that my stomach was going to split open, the man's blows tearing at the skin beneath my hoody. Strangled cries escaped my lips. _Fight him, fight him! _I swiveled, lifting my legs to kick at him. I aimed for his crotch but missed, and then he was _on _me, gripping my hair and slamming my head into the ground. I heard the footsteps of the other men running towards us, and before I knew it they were all ramming punches and kicks into my body.

I tried to scream, tried to cry for help, but the pain was so agonizing that it blocked any sound escaping my throat. One of them punched my face, cutting open my lip and tearing the skin of my cheek. _Oh God, someone please help! _

"Let's show her what we're made of." One of them said, his voice twistingly joyful. They men chuckled around me, all around me. Suddenly, I was lifted from the ground by the collar of my hoody, my back slamming into the wall.

_Slam, slam... slam! _

"_Please..." _I rasped, but they simply threw me back to the ground. One punched my face again, and I felt a ring tear into my skin. I screamed.

Oh God, there was so much pain! Fire soared across my body, blood trailing down my face. I could taste the bitter sweet taste of blood in my mouth, making me want to vomit. My body trembled and I weakly rolled on my side, choking into the concrete ground. I couldn't see, my vision blurred with pain and tears, but the men were all shielding me in anything but a protective stance. Through their legs I saw a human form, a phone in their hand. They stood with confidence, and all I could tell was that they were female.

My breath was haggard, my fingers pointlessly clawing at the floor.

"Leave her alone." The girl said, her voice stern but calm.

"What are you gonna do about it?" one of the men asked.

"The police are on their way." She told them, but her voice was fading, my eyes falling closed. They laughed at her, low and taunting.

"No they're not." One said, his voice mocking.

"Yeah, you're right, but the police suck at their jobs anyway!" a new voice said above me, a voice that had my heart in a flutter. _Peter. _I forced my eyes open, desperate to see him, but all I saw was the form of Spiderman beating the crap out of my attackers. I couldn't make sense of it. I had _heard _him! That was _his _voice! Panic enveloped me as I watched the men fall, Spiderman kicking and punching them, his webs going all over the place. And the girl was running towards me, dodging the fight unfolding. She knelt before me, brushing my hair from my face. _Gwen. _

"Claudia, can you hear me?" her voice was high and panicked, just audible over the grunts and groans of the men. I closed my eyes, feeling my consciousness slipping. "Hey! Don't go to sleep!" she yelled, her hands under my arms as she tried to rattle me awake. Oh, let me die here. Go away and let me die in the gutter. The pain was so engulfing, so overpowering, that I couldn't remember what was going on. I couldn't even remember my name. I wanted nothing more than for the pain to demolish, and the only way for that to happen was to fall asleep.

Someone kept shaking me. They kept shouting but I couldn't make out what they were saying. The blissful world of unconsciousness took me under.

When I came to, I was no longer in the street. I was home, lying on the leather sofa that cushioned my body. The light blinded me, making me wince when I tried to open my eyes. The sofa was soft under my broken body, which was burning with such intensity I let out a cry of pain. My head was pounding, my body feeling swollen and throbbing horrendously. My tongue automatically dabbed my lips, tasting the dried up blood that coated the cut there. And my cheek felt as if it had been smashed against a rock.

"Oh, thank God." The voice was not one I wanted to hear, and yet I was relieved all at the same time. Martha was at my side, kneeling down and dabbing a towel of ice to my head. I gasped/sighed, soaking up the blissful coldness against the skin of my forehead. My hand shook with pain and bliss, and she took it in hers reassuringly. I let her, wanting nothing more but to take my mind of the throbbing in my body. I had been beaten to a pulp!

"Thank god." Another voice whispered, making me jump. And then Gwen Stacy was in my line of sight, her face creased with worry that mimicked Martha's.

"What are... you... doing... here?" I croaked, wincing as I did. I found myself out of breath with that sentence alone.

"She found you in an alley unconscious. Rang me to come and get you. Oh, Claudia, you've frightened the life out of me! What the hell happened?" Martha had sobs trapped in her voice, and I squeezed her hand weakly. I locked my gaze with Claudia. Behind the worry was guilt. She had lied to my sister, and not just about the 'finding me' prospect. She hadn't called her, at least not alone. There was only one person who had my number aside from Rick. My jaw clenched just thinking the name, but my heart hammered in rage with the realization of where Claudia had gotten my number from.

I looked at Martha. "I can't... remember." I whispered, also lying. I remembered everything. It all came flooding back to me. Following Rick, watching him with a group of men, listening to a conversation not for my ears, getting beaten, Gwen's arrival, Spiderman's arrival... or should I say _Peter's arrival! _

It all made sense now. The quick disappearances, the way he handled items, the familiarity between the two voices that had been nagging me for a long time. The _same _voice! Peter Parker's voice! I was so sure! I had been so certain that it was Peter's voice I had heard upon his arrival, when my eyes were closed. Only his voice could make my stomach flip in circumstances such as that. But when I woke to see that it was _Spiderman, _all of it clicked. That was what Peter had been hiding from me. _That was what he had lied to me about! _

And now where was he? _Where was he now? _While I lay here, beaten and in agony, where the hell was he? Gwen was here and she barely knew me!

"Claudia, who did this to you?" Martha asked, taking my face in her hands. "Please, tell me."

"I... don't know." I uttered, choking on a sob. "I want to... go to bed."

"Okay, baby, okay." She took me into her arms, huffing on a breath. I whined in pain, tears spilling from my eyes. Martha shushed me quietly. "It's okay, it's okay. Nothing's broken, you're going to be fine. A doctor is coming tomorrow morning."

I barely took in her words. I watched Gwen over Martha's shoulder, who hugged herself with worry as she watched me. Our eyes locked. And then, I opened my mouth to speak.

"Thank... you." I whispered. She closed her eyes, nodding solemnly.

Once my head hit the pillow, I was out in seconds, anger and hurt knocking me out.

In the morning, I lay gritting my teeth. My body still burned only not as bad, my head being the main source of my pain now. All I could think of was Peter and his lies, his identity. I had never been so _angry _with him! That's why he entered my life, after my attempted suicide. Guilt, that's what it was all about! Guilt! Guilt because he hadn't saved my parents! Guilt because he _pitied _me! _How could he do this to me? _I wanted to beat the crap out of him, scream at him, beg with him to tell me I was wrong. But I _knew _I was right, it all made sense! He had never had anything to do with me until _after _I tried to take my own life, for God's sake!

And then there was Rick. What the hell was that bastard up to? Had he been amongst the men beating me? Who _were_ those men? And what about money? All of it was linked to me and Martha, and what was linked to Martha was linked to the money in her bank. And I vowed revenge. I vowed to get even with my attackers. I vowed to keep them _away from my sister! _I promised myself to keep her safe! No one was going anywhere near my sister, not while I was around.

The doctor came around in the later hours of the morning. He prodded my cheek, examining it. Turned out that I needed stitches, and that it would heal in no time if I left them alone. Fair enough. My body, however, was a disaster zone. Every inch of me was coated in black and purple splodges, tender to the touch. He said that the only cure for that was time and rest. Other than that I was fine, and that in a week or so I would be back on my feet. He also said I was lucky to not have had my eye taken out.

Martha was reluctant to go to work, afraid to leave me alone. I insisted that she went and that I would be fine, so she left me with a cup of coffee, ice and the TV control. When she left I settled down to watch whatever crap was on TV, staying purposely still to keep the stabbing pains from shooting up and down my body.

When all the anger had worn off, all I could feel was the hurt of betrayal. How could he do this? Why did he have to jump into my life like that and then betray me? Did he know I knew? He hadn't tried to get in touch with me, probably pretending he knew nothing about my attack. Another lie. I found myself crying, no, _sobbing, _at the fact of what he had done. And I was angry at myself. I shouldn't have let him get so close. I shouldn't have wrapped myself around _his _little finger. It was my fault just as much as it was his fault.

But I hated to admit that I wanted to see him. I wanted to cry into his chest, let his smell waft into my nostrils. I wanted him to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be okay. All the more reason to stay away from him.

And what was I going to do about Rick? What had become of him after last night? I needed to find him, I needed to know what he wanted _'the cash' _for. I wanted to know what he had wrapped me and Martha in. And then I would kill him.

My heart began to ache, ache for a man I should now be hating. God, I was so weak! He hadn't been there when they died, he hadn't _saved _them, and all I wanted right now was to see him! He was a magnet, and I needed him. I _needed _him! How could I want to be near him, though? How could I face him with that knowledge? How could I _trust _him?

I brushed away my tears, whimpering like a child. I was careful to avoid my stitches, the skin around there incredibly tender. I placed my now empty mug on the floor, trembling with agonizing hurt.

The phone rang, and I knew who it was before I answered it.

"Claudia, are you okay, are you alright? Gwen told me what happened..."

"I know, Peter." I choked down the line, trying to push down the flurry of excitement at the sound of his voice.

"What?"

"I know who you really are." _And I hate that I need you. _"We need to talk."

I listened to the sharpness of his breath, the panic there and also admitting defeat. Then, with a shaky sigh, he said. "Okay."

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**Do I even need to ask?**


	18. The Truth

**It's here, guys, the chapter you have all been waiting for! I tried to make it sounds as real as possible, for all you lovely reviewers deserve nothing but the best! I hope you all enjoy it!**

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When he arrived, he looked ill with nerves. Peter came knocking on my door, twenty minutes after being on the phone. When I opened to him, his eyes raked my face and filled with horror. They landed on my cheek and his swallowed harshly. I didn't miss how he raised his hand slightly towards me, but then he thought better of it and dropped it. At the sight of him my eyes filled with tears but I furiously blinked them away. My heart did flips, my stomach tightened with knots. Oh, how I reacted to his presence had my body in turmoil, even though I should have been slamming the door in his face.

Stepping back, I let him in. He edged past me, purposely avoiding physical touch. Closing the door I turned to him, who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen with his hands in his jacket pockets. The sight of him was enough to take away the pain souring through my body, but it wasn't enough to take away the weakness. I winced, stumbling as my legs caved in from the pressure of standing. Peter caught me, his hands incredibly light on my tender skin, and he edged me towards the sofa. When I hissed through clenched teeth, he scooped me up in his arms, not afraid to show off his strength now. I clenched my eyes shut, fighting the blazing urge to thrash in his arms. He set me down, my body sinking into the cushions in welcome. He sat on the floor, crossing his legs and staring at me.

"Tell me I'm wrong." I whispered to him, hugging my knees to my chest as I sat up. Every part of me prayed I was wrong, begged for the mere shaking of his head or the words that confirmed what I hoped for. But instead he closed his eyes and dropped his face into his hands.

"I was going to tell you. I _wanted _to tell you." he mumbled through his hands, his body shaking with somewhat grief.

"You only saved me out of pity, that night on the roof." I choked.

"No!" he lifted his head, his mouth agape. "That's not true."

I laughed without humour, looking up at the ceiling. "Did you just come across me by accident? And after, did you feel obliged to keep me alive out of pity?" I asked, tears falling down my cheeks. "Where were you when we needed you? My parents are dead because of me, but you also never came to save them!"

"Claudia," his voice cracked on my name. "don't say it like that. Please don't! You have no idea how awful I feel, how I wish I could have saved them."

"Then why _didn't _you?"

"Because I was a stupid kid!" he shouted. "A stupid, selfish, vengeful kid!" he looked up, his eyes boring into mine. Fire lurked there, fire and agony. His words played in my mind and I tried to make sense of them, but nothing linked. He saw the confusion in my face, and he drew in a deep breath.

"About seven months ago, my Uncle Ben was murdered." He said, his voice flat. He was playing with his hands, refusing to look at me. "He died because of me. I was selfish and exaggerative. Things had started to get difficult at home because I had learnt that they were keeping things from me about my dad. On the night he died, I said things to him that I never meant, things that I will never be able to take back. I stormed out of the house after a fight with him, and he came after me. I was in a shop, and this guy was robbing it. I did nothing to stop it, holding a grudge against the cashier, and the guy got away... and shot Uncle Ben in the process."

As he explained, my heart sank and reached out for him. I was crying for two reasons now; his lies and his story. He continued without missing a beat.

"After that, I tried to hunt down the man who killed the closest thing to a father I had. I wanted revenge on the man who killed him, who died under my hands. I hunted for him every night. He was a well known car thief, and he had a tattoo on his wrist, one of a star. I was more of masked terroriser than the local hero. Instead of helping people I tried to satisfy my own sense of justice."

"Finally, I began to realise that people needed me. I read in the paper one morning about what had happened to you and your parents, and I have felt guilty ever since. I had been nearby, searching for the guy who took away _my _family member, and not one day has gone by that I wished I hadn't been so selfish." He looked at me then. "Not one day."

I buried my face in my hands, sobbing with wrenching gags in my throat. The reality of his words stabbed me in the gut, making me suffer the excruciating agony of his loss and mine. I wanted so much to hate him, to scream at him, to beg for time to go back so that none of this ever happened. I wanted to gather up the power to throw him out and tell him to never come back. But he had gone through what I had, and I had never felt more connected to him. It was a guilty pleasure, and I knew that I should have done anything to get away from him.

But I was in too deep.

"Despite everything, from the hunting of my Uncle's killer to the whole lizard scenario, I never let you escape my thoughts. Every time I saw you in school, ignoring everyone and keeping to yourself, I wanted nothing more than to turn back time and save you the pain. You reminded me of me. I was like you, pushing everyone away, picking fights and forgetting who I was. Even my Aunt May looked to be a stranger to me. But I got better, I took comfort in saving others, knowing I could save them the agony of loss. But not you. You tormented me."

"I followed you outside of school, trying to come up with a way to help you. I went over millions of ways to come and talk to you, try and befriend you, but the guilt of my selfishness always got in the way. I admit it, at first I _did _feel guilty and I pitied you, but not for long. That night when you jumped from the building, I refused to let you give up. And when I realised you blamed me just as much as I blamed myself, I made it my mission to help you recover."

Suddenly, he grasped both of my hands. I looked at him, bawling my eyes out, choking on my sobs. His own eyes glistened with tears. Every part of me screamed at me to get away from him, apart from my heart. Even though it was breaking, it reached out to him. He was the glue that stopped me from shattering, even though I should have smashed long ago. Gingerly, he pressed his forehead to mine, clenching my hands as if they were his life line. He was on his knees, looking to be begging with me. I closed my eyes, unable to pull away.

"Please, forgive me. I can't lose you, Claudia, not now. You should hate me, I know that. You can walk away, you can tell me to never talk to you again, but I will never stop caring about you. I need you. I need you to forgive me, even if you can't trust me."

I composed myself, thinking of what he was asking from me. I could tell him to walk away, I could tell him to never speak to me again, but I would never be able to stop needing him. He was making me break my promise that I had made with myself. I had promised to never care for someone. I had promised to never get too close to someone. It always ended in grief. The people you cared about were always taken away from you, always the ones to betray you, leaving you with nothing but hurt and anger. But I also knew that when someone wedged themselves into your life, if became impossible to get rid of them. No matter how hard you tried they would always be there, gnawing away at the back of your mind.

I looked into his hazel eyes, getting sucked into their depth. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words flowed out. His eyes had me at a downfall, filled with anguish and desperation. He was so close, disorientating me. I was very aware of the side of his nose resting against mine, his lips too close for comfort. My breathing accelerated.

"Please." He whispered. I shivered. My heart was pounding, but not with the grief of the truth.

"I... I don't..." I couldn't talk, couldn't think. Oh, why did he have to come into my life and screw me over? Why did he make me feel this way? Why couldn't I just move away from him and throw him out? Why oh why was my heart still reaching for him?

"I'm so sorry." He choked. "I'm sorry for being the selfish jerk I was. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you." he paused. "And I'm sorry for this."

Suddenly, his lips were on mine. He released on of my hands and placed his fingers in my hair, keeping me locked to him. We both took sharp intakes of breath. I couldn't grasp what was happening. I raised my fist, seriously thinking about punching him away. But I couldn't, and when his lips began to mould with mine, moving in a slow, practiced motion, my better judgement collapsed. My fist relaxed, and I found myself feeling the softness of his hair between my fingers.

My reaction unnerved me. His lips were soft and yet demanding, his fire hotter than ever. Every damaged hair on my body stood on end with bliss, shivers of pleasure running up and down my spine. Against my own very will my lips moved with his, my mind demanding to get every ounce of him. He took away all the heartache, all the physical pain of my body, all with just his expertise kiss. He poured so much emotion into that kiss alone. Agony, grief, pleasure, need. And I wanted him to keep kissing me forever, to hold me and never let me go, to always be there for me. But, in reality, there was always going to be his identity hanging between us.

I pushed him away.

"I... I need to... think." I stuttered. Licking his lips he dropped his head. He rose to his feet, gazing down at me with a certain torment shadowing his eyes. However, he bent down, his lips caressing my stitched up cheek. I froze, expecting a stab of pain, but his lips were lighter than a feather's touch. It was all I could do to not turn my head and catch his lips in mine. His mouth lingered there, his breath hot and heavy on my skin.

"I'm sorry for everything." He whispered. And then he left, letting himself out and shutting the door softly behind him. Tentatively I touched my lips with my finger, scorching hot. The cut in my lip stung like mad, an added reminder Peter's mouth on mine. My mind was screaming at me, but my heart with beating in delight.

I hated him for the truth.

I admired him for being upfront.

I ached for his heart.

As I sat there, relaying what had happened, my heart grew heavy. What was I supposed to do? He was everything I wanted, everything I hated. He was the antidote of my grief, but the disease of my pain. He was a bit of everything.

What did I follow, my head or my heart?

I was sixteen, seventeen in less than a month. I had too much going on in my head. There was the loss of my parents, the strain between me and Martha, the complications between me and Peter, and then on top there was Rick to deal with. It was a heavy load, crushing me and becoming too much. There was only so much I could take.

Finally, I broke down into more heart wrenching sobs.

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**Review? Yes? No? Maybe? :D**


	19. Think

**Sorry I didn't update last night, I was absolutely exhausted I had needed to get an early night :/ This chapter is probably the longest I've done so far! Quite happy to be honest :P I'll try and add another chapter later on tonight, but I need to do some babysitting first :P Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

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"Claudia? Claudia! What's wrong?" Martha's voice floated into my thoughts, but I had no strength to react. I was aware of her arms encircling me, gently scooting me on to sofa and pulling me onto her lap. I was shocked to realise I was still crying, and I finally admitted that I needed someone to myself. I clung to Martha like a lifeline, wrapping my arms around her neck and holding onto her tightly. I let her kiss my head, rub my back, whisper soft words into my ear to try and calm me down. She thought I was in too much pain, and she was right in a sense. But my aching body was nothing compared to the ripping in my chest.

"It's going to be okay." She whispered, kissing my temple. "Everything's going to be okay." My mind travelled, plucking out memories I had tried so hard to forget. Back when Martha hadn't met Rick, when everything had been perfect. She used to hold me like this whenever I got upset, and she had always made me feel better. She used to promise to take me to the movies or rent my favourite movies when I was little, just to take my mind off of what ever had been upsetting me. Like I've said before, she was my best friend.

In my heart, I knew I should have told her about Rick, about how he was mixing with a dangerous crowd. No, that he was the _boss _of a dangerous crowd. But everything that was happening to me had me crumbling into dust, leaving me feeling powerless. I wanted to protect Martha, the sister in me who loved Martha finally breaking through. But how could I protect her if I couldn't tell her what was going on? She would want to go to the police, but they would be no use. It was Rick's word against mine. I had nothing on him. The guys who had beaten me had been wearing hoodies and the alley had been dark, so I couldn't get a good look at them. Sure, Spiderm... Peter, had taken care of them, but Rick was probably still out there. His little mob may have been, too. Maybe they had gotten away.

What was I supposed to do?

We sat like that for a long time, until my sobs turned silent and the tears stopped flowing. My body jerked a lot, the only sign that I had been crying. Carefully, avoiding my cheek, Martha brushed away my tears lovingly with her sleeve, something she used to do when I was a child. I warmed to her holding me, feeling the girl I used to be screaming with joy deep down. For the first time in too long, I realised I had missed Martha. I had missed her touch, her smell, her love. Her golden locks smelled of cherries, her skin warm and soft around me. I listened to her heart, slow and steady sounding in my ear. I embraced the feeling of her fingers in my hair, her cheek on my head.

In silence, Martha set me carefully back onto the sofa, getting up and making me a cup of hot chocolate. She also got a glass of water with antibiotics she had gotten from the pharmacy. I swallowed two capsules, closing my eyes while I waited for them to kick in. Martha handed me a mug of hot chocolate and I held it between my palms of the arm of the sofa. I stared blankly at the window, my eyes stinging like hell. I could feel Martha's eyes on me, watching me intently, but my mind began to wonder.

What was I going to do about Peter? How could I ever forgive him? If I turned my back on him, I knew I would regret it. Every barrier I had built had been demolished by his stubbornness, his kindness, his insistence. I wanted to say no, tell him to never speak to me again, but what good would that do? He had just kissed me and I could not shake the ecstasy of that experience. He made me feel so alive. He unlocked everything I had tried to keep locked away. His lips were like a fire, a burning pleasure I would forever long for. I wanted many more kisses shared with him. I wanted to have his arms around me, I wanted his soft words in my ear, I wanted his fingers entwined with mine. No matter what I did, I knew there was no escaping the truth.

I belonged to him now.

He had stolen my heart, broken through me and influenced me in ways I never thought possible. How he had done it was beyond me.

I sighed heavily, sipping at my hot chocolate.

"Claudia?" Martha murmured. I looked up. She was sitting on the other half of the sofa, her legs tucked under her and her hands entwined. She looked at me with somewhat sorrow.

"Hmm?" I murmured, the sound croaky in my throat.

"What happened to you?" her voice sounded strained. However, I heard more to her question. _What happened when I was out? _Oh, I wanted to tell her. I wanted to pour my heart out to her, but it was too painful to speak of. Instead in shook my head, blinking furiously because of the stinging around my eyes.

"You know, this past few weeks you've seemed different." She told me gently. "You've seemed... happier, somehow. You've spoken a lot more, smiled, and for a moment I could see you, the _real _you. Is there was reason for that?"

"Does it matter?" I asked quietly.

"I miss you, Claudia. It sounds weird, but I miss who you used to be. You used to smile, laugh, live your life to the full. The last time I saw that girl was before mom and dad died. But I've seen flickers of her lately, and you have no idea how happy I've been to see her." She laughed quietly under her breath. "Remember when you were eleven, and we went to England for a week? You were so excited to be there, shouting 'London baby!' at the top of your lungs. Mom kept telling you to shut up, so I joined in to annoy her more." She giggled again, and I found myself joining in.

"And dad bought all those Union Jack things." I said, grinning at my mug.

"Remember that hat he got?"

"Yeah, mom was mortified." We laughed gently.

"See, your smiling. I've missed that smile. Is there any particular reason why it's appeared?" she said, and when I didn't answer she sighed. "You know, if there is someone out there making you feel happy, someone who you actually listen to, you should try your hardest to not let them get away."

"I'm scared." I admitted. She smiled softly.

"If someone is making you see that life is worth living, for God's sake, never let them go." She got to her feet then, taking my now empty mug from me. "Think about it."

I did think about it. But there was someone who I needed to speak to first.

"Martha? You know Gwen, do you have her number?" I asked.

"Yeah, she gave it to me last night after you had gone to sleep. It's on the counter." she yawned then, and I realised that it was coming up for ten o'clock. "I'm going bed now. You going to be okay?"

"Yeah." I said, thinking hard. Before she went into her room, I stopped her. "Thank you, Martha. I mean it."

She smiled. "No worries, sis."

When her door clicked shut, I stiffly got to my feet and walked to the kitchen counter. The antibiotics were finally kicking in, numbing the searing pain in my face and on my body. I searched around, finding a piece of paper with Gwen's name scrawled above some numbers. Biting the unharmed side of my lip, I snagged the phone and punched in the numbers.

"Hello?" Gwen's voice was guarded, on high alert. I stayed quiet, waiting for her to click on who it might be. Then, "Claudia?"

"Sup, Barbie?" I said, trying to pour in the joking tone. I listened to her sigh.

"Peter told me everything." She said.

"I bet he did."

"He's going insane. He doesn't know what to do." She said, her voice too fast. "He doesn't want to lose you."

"He has you doesn't he?" I spat, annoyed now. Why did I even bother?

"Yeah, but not the way he wants you." her words stung, but they also had my heart racing. "You make him happy. You both have a connection, not the best, but you still have something to relate to. The way he looks at you..."

"What am I supposed to do?" I said, my voice low. It seemed weird, but Gwen seemed to be the kind of girl to know what to do. I hoped she knew what to do. I had no one else to turn to.

"Why are you asking me?" she asked.

"I don't know who else to ask."

"Is that the truth, or do you just want me to tell you what you want to hear?" I replayed her words in my mind, trying to make sense of them. Was that what I wanted? What did I want to hear? Gwen sighed. "Look, I can't tell you what to do, no one can. You just have to follow your instincts. Go talk to him, that's the only advice I can give." And, without even saying goodbye, she hung up.

I leaned on the counter, my head in my arms as I surrendered to defeat. If I had the strength, I would have shed more tears. My throat burned with the temptation, but I finally decided to get a grip. I straightened, glaring at the phone. I was tempted to lob it across the room, just to distract myself. I picked it up to do just that, but that was when I heard a crash. The crash of a body on metal. The door to my bedroom was open, and my window was the only one that led out onto the fire escape. Frowning, I stepped into my room. I pushed up the window and stuck my head out, looking up in confusion. The place was bare, and curiosity got the better of me. I climbed out, and then I ascended up.

When I got to the roof, I was met by Peter. I swallowed. My heart pounded in anger, my mind screaming at me in fury. He had his back to me, wearing the unmistakable suit of Spiderman. He was on the perimeter of the building looking down, his body tense. My heart skipped a beat. I could see every muscle in his body, so defined and perfect. His mask was off, tossed on the floor behind him. Swallowing, I pushed down all the anger that begged to be let out, and I let my heart take the lead.

"Don't jump." I said, my voice barely audible. He whirled, shock on his face as he nearly feel from the building. He stumbled forward, his arms out in front of him for balance. I snorted on a laugh, but it was short lived. We stood silently, drinking one another in, meters of air separating us.

"I should hate you. I should be screaming at you to get lost and never talk to me again. I should probably be pushing you right off of this building." I swallowed, watching his face which was soaking in my every word. "I could argue that you have ruined my life. But we both know that that's not true anymore." I stepped closer, only a little, watching him with such intensity it frightened me. "You make me want to scream in frustration, you're incredibly persistent, you're stupidly stubborn... but then again you're kind, you're protective, you're caring. You are everything I want to be. You drive me insane, you make me want to smack my head against the wall a thousand times."

"Then why are you still here talking to me?" he asked softly, now smiling. I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath. When I opened them, he had taken a step closer to me.

"Because you didn't let me fall." I choked out. "You were stupid enough to save my life, and no matter how much I want to resent you for it, I haven't felt this alive since before I lost my parents." He took a couple more steps closer, and I stepped forward towards him, and before I knew it, we met and stood at arm's length. I gazed up at him in wonder, the suit suddenly becoming invisible to me. All I saw was him. Not Spiderman, but Peter Parker.

"Can you forgive me?" he asked quietly.

"I can never forgive you for that." I answered truthfully, and he dropped his head in despair. "_But_ I also can't push you out of my life." and then he raised his head, his eyes glistened with tears. Slowly, I lifted my hand and touched his cheek. His body trembled, the muscles growing tense. I smiled sadly. He ran his somewhat gloved hand down my arm, which was bare as I was in just my t-shirt and jeans. He left goosebumps in his wake, his hand circling around my neck and into my hair. He came closer, closing the distance.

He brought his forehead down to mine, his eyes staring into my damaged soul. His free arm snaked around my waist to the small of my back, pulling me against him. I closed my eyes, my heart jumping in ecstasy.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered, so quietly that I barely heard him even though he was so close. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tangled my fingers into his hair.

"Yes." I said, my voice bold and confident. He didn't smile, he didn't comment. He just crushed his lips onto mine, pulling me into a world where no one but us existed. I kissed him back, wanting every ounce of him. His taste, his smell, his touch. He was a world like no other, and I would never be able to get enough.

I hoped I could forgive myself in the aftermath.

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**Review you lovely people! **


	20. Flight

**I found this chapter rather difficult to right... I wanted to keep it as un-cheesy as possible but I also wanted to keep the Spiderman feel to it. I hope I achieved as much... Anywho, enjoy! :D And, again, I LOVE you guys! :D**

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The world below and beyond truly was beautiful. The lights shimmered, the city so full of buzzing life and stunning brilliance. It gave the illusion of the perfect world, the one we all dream about. No crime, no hurt, only perfection. But Peter and I knew better. We knew the pain and hurt that went on beyond the beauty. No amount of greatness could blind us of that knowledge.

I sat with Peter's mask in my hands on the roof, the eyes staring up at me in somewhat fascination. They scared me and yet they comforted me. They were no longer the eyes of a monster to me, for I knew that it was Peter's eyes that would lurk behind them. Peter sat incredibly close, his legs crossed and his chin on my shoulder. He stared at his other identity's face, his steady breath raising the hairs on my neck. His closeness made me feel safe, him warm breaths soothing me down to the core. I stroked the material of the mask gently.

"Uncle Ben was the reason I became Spiderman." He said softly. "I tried to find the killer, but to this day he still lives as a free man." I could hear the anger and pain in his voice.

"The killers to my parents are still out there, too." I said. "The police thought it was me who had done it at first." I laughed darkly, bowing my head at the memory. He lowered his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. Oh, how he knew how to distract me. Tingles ran down my spine and right down to my toes, my brain becoming hazy. I could feel his smile on my skin, his lips grazing the flesh with the lightest of touches. For a moment I forgot about the wrongs of what the police had accused me of, thinking of only Peter and his intoxicating ways.

"You know, I remember you before all hell went down." He said. "I remember you with all those other kids, laughing and not having a care in the world. When I was the loser of the school, I used to look at you and wish I could gain the courage to talk to you." and then I felt guilty because I had never even known who Peter was. I looked up at him, completely stunned. "Don't look at me like that, it's true. I thought I'd never have a shot with you."

"I can't see why." I murmured. He smiled, barely showing his teeth.

"You wouldn't though would you?" he chuckled, stroking my good cheek with his gloved hand. "But she's not who I fell for."

"Why?" I asked, my voice cracking. He gently pulled my head against his, staring into my eyes intently.

"You have no idea what you do to people, do you?" he asked. I shook my head numbly, in a trance. "There are people out there who live a lie. Pretend that everything is okay. But not you. You give reality a real meaning. I fell for you because you're strong, stubborn, reckless, and yet deep down you still have a heart. I admire you for it."

"People just want to stay away from me. All my friends left without a second glance. How do I know you're not going to do that?" I said quietly, closing my eyes.

"If I wanted to leave, I would have left by now." He said sternly. "I'm not leaving you. I _refuse _to leave you. I'm here for a long as you want me."

"I have a feeling that that's going to be a long time."

"Are you hearing me complaining?"

When I shook my head he grinned, standing up and collecting my hands in his. He was about to take the mask from me but I snatched it away, smirking at him slightly. I pulled my hands from him and stared at his face, which had now taken a serious turn. He watched as I slowly lifted my arms towards him, placing the mask at the top of his head. Then, as slowly as possible, I rolled the material over and down his face, right down to his neck. Up until his eyes vanished, they never left mine, and I made the final adjustments at the neck. I was now staring at the man I had tried to hate, his piercing eyes staring at me and slicing through me. I was testing myself. If I could control my dying desires, I could do anything.

He came towards me, and I stepped back. I could tell that that's what he wanted me to do. Only, I didn't realise _where _he was backing me up to. I could feel his mischievous smile behind the mask, sense the sudden control he had over me. And I loved it. My feet came to the perimeter, halting me, and he began to invade my personal space. I tried to locate the colour hazel behind the glaring eyes, but I found nothing. His body became tense, hunching slightly as if readying for an attack. I bit my lip, anxious to know what he was up to.

"You said you trust Peter Parker, but do you trust Spidey?" he asked, his voice ever so slightly muffled. I swallowed. He knew that it was a test for myself, too, and he was loving every minute of it. We both already knew the answer before he had asked it.

"Yes." I whispered. And then everything happened too fast.

In a flash, his arm pulled me against him from my waist, the movement smooth and causing hardly any pain at all in my damaged body. I gasped, taken aback, automatically wrapping my arms around his neck for balance. I heard the slightest chuckle, and before I knew it, he was diving us to the city below.

The fall barely lasted two seconds, but it was enough to plunge my heart into my mouth. And then we were flying, flying and falling. The wind was in my hair, the city zooming in and out constantly. I looked around, watching as webs slung out from Peter's wrist. I noticed the device attached there, saw how his two middle fingers closed in on his palm to activate it. I watched at the muscles in his arms worked, tensing and relaxing. The lights flew past us, the cars below nothing but a blur.

And the smile on my face was radiant.

I felt so safe in his arms, even with the knowledge that my life was in his hands. We were defying gravity, plunging through the air that was against our nature. With the wind in my face, the air tousling my curls, I had never felt so free. I could no longer feel the agonizing pain, mentally and physically, only the fact that I was breathless with the experience. I wanted it to last forever. I wanted this night to last forever.

Suddenly, Peter let me go, grabbing my arm before any kind of fall could take place. I clung to him arm for dear life despite the firm grip he had on me. He swung us straight ahead, and his laugh was audible through the roaring sound of the wind in my ears. He slung me up, and instinct told me to grab onto him. One arm flung under his arm and the other over his shoulder, my front slamming into his back. I was too numb with excitement to feel any pain upon the impact, and all I could was laugh. One hand kept my arms securely to his chest, promising to not let me fall. We came to a sudden halt, and I could feel the muscles in his back beginning to work.

I had no idea what building he was climbing, but it didn't take long to reach the top. Once we were on the roof, I slid off his back, unable to catch my breath. However, his hands covered my eyes, his voice breathless in my ear.

"How was that?" he asked, the smile easy to hear. I laughed.

"Incredible!" I shouted and he laughed. Then he was pushing me somewhere, and I let him take me wherever the hell he pleased. My legs felt like jelly, the giggles escaping me uncontrollable. I knew that that wasn't the first time Peter had taken me for a swing, but the last couple of times had been against my will, _and _I had hated the idea on Spiderman, period. But this time around it was different. He had let me see the beauty of the city, taken my life into his hands and had made me feel safer than I ever could feel. I knew now that I trusted him with my life.

He removed his hands from my eyes, and I gasped in amazement. There were no words to describe the sights of the city from this angle, far and wide. I felt like I was on top of the world, able to do anything I wanted. I gripped the safety bar in front of me, drinking in the sights and imprinting them onto my brain. Peter hopped onto the bar, sitting comfortably on all fours. He took of his mask, a smile brighter than the sun plastered on his face. Smug bastard, but I was forever thankful. His skin was moist, his breaths coming heavily from his lips. His eyes met mine, sparkling with delight.

"It's so beautiful." I said, drawing my eyes away.

"Yeah it is." He murmured, but I could feel his eyes boring into me.

"Do you come up here a lot?"

"Most nights. Helps me think." He kept staring at me, and I became unnerved. I looked at him, raising my brow.

"What are you staring at?" I demanded, but my voice was less stern that I intended. He offered me a goofy grin, dropping his head as he chuckled.

"I've just never seen you so happy." He told me, looking at me through his lashes.

"You know all the right buttons to press, so congratulations." I smiled, loving the sound of his laugh. He tossed his mask on the floor, hopping off the rail and walking over to me. Without a word he took my face in his hands, avoiding my cheek in the process.

"I want you to always be happy." He murmured. I stared into his face, taken aback by all the seriousness that lurked there. I swallowed when he kissed me, only lightly, a teasing motion. I licked my lips, engulfing his taste. He grinned, pulling me against him. I listened to the steady beat of his heart, closing my eyes and smiling.

"Claudia?" he asked.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you." his voice was sincere, and I found myself suffering confusion.

"For what?"

"For letting me into your life." he kissed my head. My arms wrapped around his body and his arms enveloped me, promising to keep me safe no matter what the circumstances.

"Thanks for wedging yourself in."

When I got home, I wanted nothing more than to collapse on my bed. I stumbled inside my window, which was still open from when I left. I shivered, my room freezing and I rubbed my arms for warmth. Peter had brought me back to the roof of my building, the flight back just as exhilarating as the flight out. I couldn't wipe the smile from my face when I got inside, and I shut my window as quietly as possible. I stared at my bed, so tempted to climb into it and give in to unconsciousness. But it wasn't until I heard the soft moans of Martha in the other room that made me decline the idea.

I walked to her room silently, creaking open the door. She was on the left hand side of the bed, thrashing slightly with whatever dream had her spooked. I clung to the door frame, absorbing what I was seeing. She looked ridiculously innocent and frightened, trapped in a place where there was no escape. I was about to turn back to my room when some words fell from her lips.

"Leave her alone." She said, her voice high. "Stop hurting my sister!" her legs thrashed, and I felt my high spirits suddenly drop. I looked to the ceiling, clenching my eyes shut. No matter how happy I was with Peter, no matter what amazing experiences he could offer me, it would never overtake the reality here at home. Rick began to leak back into my thoughts and I shivered with a cold fear of my own.

Slowly, I stepped into Martha's room and closed the door. I went over to her and shook her awake, and she jostled with fright.

"Claudia? Is everything okay?" she stuttered, blinking away the grogginess. I nodded stiffly in the low light.

"Can I sleep here tonight? My rooms freezing." I said, thinking better than to bring up her nightmare. I could already imagine what it had been about. Me in a dark alley, getting beaten by men with no power to stop them. I mentally shook the images from my head. However, I needed to talk to someone about Rick, and if it wasn't Martha, I knew who else.

Martha simply smiled and scooted over in her bed, and I limply climbed in, still fully clothed. I had no energy to change. Shivering, I pulled the covers over me, letting images of my childhood fill my head. Whenever I had a nightmare, I used to climb into bed with Martha for comfort and she was always prepared to offer. It was the least I could do for her after everything I had put her through.

I fell unconscious almost instantly, Martha whispering goodnight and getting a mumble of a reply. We slept back to back, a foot of air separating us. However, after so long, it was the best night's sleep I had had in what seemed to be forever. All thoughts of flying, kissing, sisterhood, nightmares, beatings, Rick and whatever else could throw in vanished from my mind, and for once I had a dreamless sleep.

I could worry about all those things in the morning.

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**I admit, I found the 'swing' scene between Peter and Gwen in the movie rather rushed and disappointing, so this was the best I could to make up for it using my own character :) Let me know what you thought!**


	21. Explanation

**I'm not sure if the previous chapter uploaded right, the site was acting weird last night when I tried to upload it :S Please let me know if it did or not! Anyway, this is chapter 21, enjoy! :D**

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I woke to the light leaking through the blinds of Martha's window. I released a moan, squeezing my eyes shut and pulling the covers over my head, wanting nothing more than to fall back into my slumber. I could feel the warmth of Martha's body radiating onto mine, her sleeping breaths soft and sounding far away. It occurred to me that it was a Sunday, Martha's day off. Oh, I had always hated Sundays. The eve of a new week and the ending of the previous. I didn't know what it was about Sundays I didn't like, maybe it was the fact I had school the following day.

I groaned in an aching pain, shots of fire running up and down my body and reminding me of how damaged I was. I puffed out a sigh. Maybe I would be able to slack off from school, for I really wasn't up to being on my feet all day. Martha stirred beside me, murmuring softly in her sleep. Giving up I pulled myself into a sitting position, rubbing my fists in my eyes. And then the previous night came back to me in a breath taking rush, and a part of me thought it was all a dream. I let the smile take over my face for a moment, but it immediately vanished when I heard the pounding on the front door.

"What on earth?" Martha bolted up, blinking away the sleep and grogginess in her eyes. The fists out in the hall were loud and demanding, causing my heart to beat erratically in my chest. I held my breath, along with Martha, as we waiting for them to stop. Panic was rising in my throat, for I knew who would be behind that door.

The banging continued for a good five minutes, and I finally lost my temper. I leapt from the bed and marched out of the room, Martha hissing for me to come back. I strode to the door, levelling my eye with the peep hole. Sure enough, Rick stood on the other side. Grinding my teeth and grabbed a notepad from the counter, scribbling down words of insult. I slipped it under the door, and for a moment, the pounding stopped. And then it doubled.

"Open the damn door!" Rick bellowed. Martha appeared in the doorway, her hand over her mouth.

"Go to hell!" I screamed.

"Martha! Open the door!" he hollered, and I pointed a finger at Martha.

"Don't you dare." I said lowly. She came over to me, grasping my shoulders gently and pulling me away from the door as if it might collapse. I could feel the strain in her body, heard the ragged sounds of her breath, and the fright in her face was inevitable. We backed up to the sofa, waiting for him to give up and leave. When it became clear that he would, I had an idea.

"The fire escape." I whispered. She looked at me, confusion written on her face. I shrugged. Then she went into her room and changed, and I followed suit. I peeled out of my clothes and put on some fresh jeans and a t-shirt, grabbing a clean hoody from my wardrobe. Once I was ready, and the banging became more urgent, Martha and I climbed out of my window and onto the fire escape, pushing down the window behind us. We fled into the city, mingling into the people that flooded the streets. It was at this point that I decided to let Martha in on Rick's little secret.

We ended up in a nearby coffee shop, Martha having just enough money to get us a cup of coffee each. We sat at the very back of the café and away from any listening bystanders, sitting opposite one another at the stable. I stared at her for a while, waiting for her to get a grip of herself. She kept coiling a lock of golden hair around her finger, her eyes constantly darting to the door and back to me. Finally, I lost my patience, snapping my fingers in front of her face.

"He doesn't know we left." I told her, looking at her over the brim of my mug.

"He'll figure it out." She said, biting her lip. I merely smiled, a grim gesture.

"He's not that bright."

We sat in silence for a moment, Martha finally settling down in her stool. I watched her with a cool gaze, and it didn't take her long to feel unnerved.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"Do you still love him?" I asked, my tone low. I needed to know if that was the case, or if she ever loved him at all. She ran her fingers through her hair, sighing and looking defeated.

"No, at least, I don't think I do."

"Don't _think? _How does that make sense?"

"I was going to marry him, Claudia, you can't just shake feeling like that away." She snapped, but she was more annoyed at herself. I swallowed, dropping my head into my hands. Sighing, I decided to tell her something she wasn't going to like. _It's now or never. _

"On Friday night, I remember one thing before I got turned into a punching bag." I said. Her eyes snapped up to mine, her face becoming suddenly on high alert. Her body leaned in, not wanting to miss a word I had to say. "I went for a walk, while you were at work. I couldn't take it anymore in the apartment. It was fine until I saw someone in an alley way, completely smashed out of his head. He could barely walk, he kept throwing up, and curiosity got the better of me because I recognised him." Her eyes bulged, making sense of my words.

"It wasn't-"

"I can assure you it was. Rick was drowning in alcohol, surprise, surprise. I followed him because he looked like he was up to no good. He walked for a long time, in the back alleys where even I couldn't make sense of where I was. It was when he stopped at a warehouse that things got bad."

"He was talking to these men. They kept calling him 'Boss', and demanding if he had 'the cash'." I paused, swallowing. "And then he brought us into the conversation." She froze in her seat, swallowing back the coffee she had been sipping rather harshly. Disbelief crossed her features, and I couldn't help but notice how her hands clenched into fists. "He said things about you being on my side, that you two hadn't made up because of me. And then one of the guys said 'Wouldn't it be easier to kill her.' He meant you."

Martha choked on her drink, holding her hands to her mouth as she tried to regain control. Guilt swallowed me whole, but I knew that I had had to tell her. It would be much easier to keep her safe if she actually knew. As much as I had resented her for the last six months, she was the only family I had left. I had to keep her safe; otherwise I knew I would never be able to live with myself in the aftermath she I have lost her. Even Peter Parker wouldn't be able to save me.

"No, you must have gotten this all wrong. You hit your head pretty hard that night…"

"I know what I heard." I said through gritted teeth. "Trust me on that."

"No, no… Rick is many things but…"

"How well do you really know him?" I demanded, frowning at her. "Was he always violent? Did he always have a short temper?"

"No… he was a very sweet man when I first met him, always being the gentleman."

"He defiantly wasn't the gentleman the other night. After that conversation, I wanted to get out of there, but one of his 'mates' knocked me down before I could."

"This can't be true, he must have just gotten in with the wrong crowd…"

"Stop giving him excuses!" I tried to control the volume of my voice, but she was making it very difficult. "He's dangerous. If he can have the willpower to hit me, a girl who is barely in adulthood, who knows what he's capable of."

She ran her hands down her face, her body suddenly trembling. I felt sorry for her, for I knew that this was a lot to take in. I had never liked Rick, never trusted him. When he first entered Martha's life, I always thought he was _too _perfect, and instinct told me to keep my distance from him which I did gladly. There was something about him that had always seemed… _off. _Like the deceiving look of a spoilt child. My gut had been right many times in the past, and even though I barely knew him, I wasn't about to turn my back on instincts any time soon. Apparently, it had been a good decision. If only Martha had been less naive and had seen what was really there.

She stayed silent for a long time. My body began to grind in pain, but luckily I had brought some of my antibiotics with me. I pulled out a few coins from my pocket that had been in there for a long time, and I got up to get some water from the counter. I sat back down and took two capsules, watching Martha carefully. She stared blankly at her now empty mug, her hands in her hair. But then she finally spoke.

"I'm such an idiot." She said, her voice thick. "I should have left him the very first time he laid a hand on you. I shouldn't have rushed into things with him. I loved him, yes, but I'm not sure I wanted to marry him. He asked me out of the blue, just before I moved in with him. I said yes out of impulse. He just seemed so perfect." She said all this with an absent mine, not really talking to me anymore. She just kept travelling back, back when everything had been wonderful. Back when she wanted nothing but the perfect life.

"Perfect until I came along." I said, my voice dark.

"I'm glad you did, don't forget that. Come on, we need to go to the police." She got up, but I made no effort to move. "Come on."

"What are they going to do?" I said flatly.

"Arrest him maybe?"

"It's his word against mine. I couldn't even see the faces of the guys who beat the crap out of me. I can't even remember where the warehouse is."

"We can't just sit around and do nothing."

"I know, but we don't even know what he's up to." I pointed out. "It's useless. The police will just wave him off as a troubled drunk and nothing more."

"We don't know that until we try." She snagged my hand and pulled me to my feet, determined to do what she thought was right. She may have been keeping a straight face, but I could feel the fear buzzing through her body. Guilt taking over, I let her lead me out of the café, wanting to see if I could give her some closure by doing what she wanted.

But, in the long run, the police wouldn't be able to do anything without the names of the perpetrators or an eye witness.

An eye witness…

_Gwen! _

"If we're going to the police, we need to get Gwen to come with us." I said hurriedly. Gwen, she had been there, she had seen their faces. I was pretty sure that they were still of the loose, Peter merely stopping them from punching my brains in. Gwen may have been able to help us. We _needed _her help.

"Gwen?"

"Gwen Stacy, the girl who brought me home. She was there while I was getting beaten, maybe she saw them." _I knew _she had seen them, but Martha was only aware of Gwen _finding _me, not when or how. I didn't even know how she had found me, which I was now determined to find out.

"I have her number in my cell." Martha said, now completely agreeing. She pulled out her phone and searched for her number, and the she handed it to me. It rang three times before she answered.

"Hello?" her voice was polite, sounding lighter than a feather.

"Blondie! Meet me and my sister at the police station, we need your help."

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**Review? Yay or nay?**


	22. Station

**This chapter begins to focus on Gwen and Claudia, just like the last chapter focused on Claudia and Martha. Hope you enjoy :) And you guys are, as you know, AMAZING! :D**

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Unwanted memories washed over me when we arrived at the police station. As soon as I walked through the doors I felt physically sick. The last time I had come here, my hands had been covered in blood, tears streaming down my face and I had had two officers on either side of me. I remembered being rushed through reception, straight into a questioning room.

Automatically, back in the present, I looked towards the doors past the reception desk. Through the glass of the doors, I saw people sitting in a waiting room. What for was beyond me. But I suddenly felt unnerved. Through the glass was a child, a little girl no older than six. She was sitting on a woman's lap, who I presumed was her mother, and was clinging onto her for what looked like dear life. But, in all honestly, the child looked like death. She had short brown hair framing her face, tangled and matted. Her eyes were red rimmed, dark shadows underneath. And oh how pale she was. She looked like a corpse. And her eyes latched onto mine, hollow and lifeless, everything that shouldn't be in a child's eyes of her age.

Swallowing, I looked towards the woman behind the counter.

She was a young redhead, her hair pulled back in a tight bun which would no down burn her scalp when she let it fall at the end of the day. She wore heavy makeup around her eyes, lip gloss shining on her thin lips. She wasn't attractive at all, not with all that slap on her face. She had a phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, scribbling away on something not visible to us. I ground my teeth, wishing that I was anywhere but here. My eyes landed back on the girl behind the doors, who was still watching me with big brown eyes. I shuddered.

The receptionist was still on the phone when Gwen arrived five minutes later. She jogged towards us, worry plastered on her face. I hadn't told her much over the phone, just that we needed her here and now.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" she asked breathlessly. I opened my mouth to answer, but the receptionist cut me off.

"If you'd like to take a seat by the entrance, I'll get back to you." she said, her voice light. Glowering, I marched over to the seats. Martha wasn't happy about the wait either. Phones get ringing constantly, beginning to give me a headache. Since we had some time to kill, I looked towards Gwen.

"Bathroom. Now." I said shortly. "Back in a min." I added, looking at Martha. She nodded, looking suddenly suspicious.

Gwen followed me to the ladies bathroom, striding inside and past me. I leaned back on the door and looked at her straight in the eyes with a hard gaze. She hugged herself, looking rather awkward in the confined area and away from earshot. Then I swallowed, crossing my arms.

"What happened on Friday night? Did you follow me?" I demanded hotly.

"Follow you?" she asked, pretending to play dumb.

"What, you just _happened _to stumble across me?"

She sighed, lowering her head slightly. "Look, I saw you in the street. I even called out to you, but apparently you didn't hear me. Instead you went down that alley way like a complete _idiot. _I wouldn't have minded so much if it was daylight, but it was getting dark and everything!" her eyes raked my face, landing on my cheek. "And look what happened in the aftermath."

"What happens to me has nothing to do with you." I said lowly.

"It does when you're involved with Peter." She said. I realised for a moment that she wasn't the happy, over-the-top girl I was used to. She had taken a dark edge somehow, succeeding in being serious for once. At the mention of Peter's name I froze momentarily, his face flooding my thoughts. But I shook it free, glaring at Gwen to distract myself.

"What does he have to do with anything?" I said.

"Everything. If something were to happen to you it would crush him." I could hear what I thought was jealousy in her voice, barely there but audible all the same. I didn't want to press it, and I quickly changed the subject.

"What happened to the guys who attacked me?"

"Peter took care of them." she said, relaxing at the change of topic.

"Are they still out there?"

"Yep. We were too busy checking you over and they ran off."

"Did you see their faces?"

"Yeah." She frowned then. "You want me to give a statement."

"If you don't mind." I turned to the door, watching to see if she was going to follow. And finally I could see what was really different about her. Once we got back to reception, her eyes roamed the room with somewhat fear. She frequently rubbed her upper arms, which were bare with risen goosebumps. I frowned slightly, trying to make sense of why she would be so uncomfortable here. She saw my questioning gaze and forced a smile, a smile I could see through so clearly. Something had her on edge, it was just a matter of what.

Martha was at the desk, finally talking to the redhead behind. When Martha saw us approach, she gently grasped my arms and tugged me beside her.

"Look what happened to my sister. We need to talk to someone." She said, her voice fast and demanding. The redhead looked me over, frowning.

"Anyone could have done that." she said in an unconvinced voice. I ground my teeth, fire blazing in my chest. _How dare she! _Stepping back and offering her a clear view, I glared and lifted up my two layers of clothing, revealing the purple blotches all along my stomach and rib area. Her eyes bulged in shock.

"Convincing enough, or do you think I slipped and fell?" I snapped, pulling my clothing back down. She was immediately punching numbers into the phone, holding it to her ear numbly. From then on she couldn't take her eyes off me. I was glad to know I had left an impression, stupid cow. She asked for a detective, saying that there were some people who wanted to speak to him. A moment later, a man arrived from the back offices in a black suit, looking to be in his late forties. _Here we go. _He smiled in greeting, earning both Martha's and Gwen's but not mine. I just wanted to get this over with, even though we were more than likely wasting our time.

"Hi, I'm detective Jones, you came to me about a violent assault?" he shook Martha's hand, a seemingly firm grip.

"Yes, sir, my sister was attacked on Friday night, and we think we know who was involved." She said hurriedly.

"Can I take your names?"

"I'm Martha Thatcher, and this is my sister, Claudia Thatcher."

"And you are?" he turned to Gwen, who was standing behind me somewhat timidly.

"Gwen Stacy. I was a witness to the attack, sir." I didn't miss the reorganisation flicker across the man's eyes, and he stood drinking Gwen in with sudden pity in his eyes. I frowned slightly to myself. But the look was quickly gone and he smiled again, and then gestured for us to follow him into his office.

Dread flooded through me when we had to walk through the waiting room. I lingered behind the others, taken aback by the child who was still here and staring at me. Her big eyes drank me up, catching me in a grief filled trance. But she looked away at last, tugging her mother's sleeve.

"Mommy? When's daddy coming back?" she asked sweetly. However, the mother didn't answer, breaking down into heart wrenching sobs instead. I swallowed back the lump in my throat and hurried after the others through another set of doors. My heart went out to that little girl and her mother, for something terrible had happened to them, to her daddy. I didn't want to know what, but a dark sense of reality engulfed me, and the beauty I had seen last night seemed less spectacular in my memory.

We turned to a door with the detective's name on it, filing inside in silence. There were three chairs in front of a wooden desk covered in books and files. The room itself looked rather outdated, having a lowly lit look to it and bookcases against three of the four walls. I could smell the oldness of the books' pages, thick and strong in my nostrils. I felt as if I had stepped back in time somehow. The detective took a seat behind the desk, watching as we all sat down.

"So, what exactly happened?" he asked. And then we told him. We explained our suspicions of Rick, we explained the conversation I had come upon, and Gwen explained the looks of the men who had attacked me. All had looked to have been in their thirties, all very tall and well built. One had had dark hair reaching his shoulders, another with short spiky blonde hair. The others had been wearing hoods. We told him everything, and I have even been decent enough to show off my injuries. He listened to us very intently, the frown slowly settling in his face. Finally, when we were finished, he spoke after ten to fifteen minutes of silence of his part.

"Why have you waited until now to come and report it?" he asked calmly.

"I wasn't exactly fit to go running to the police straight after the attack." I said hotly.

"And it has only been less than two days since it happened." Martha said.

"And this Rick Hammond, is he still in contact with you?"

"He came banging on our door this morning, and he wasn't exactly in a polite mood." I said, grinding my teeth. Finally, he sighed, a gesture I had expected as soon as we had sat down.

"I'm very sorry, but there isn't much we can do. I can bring in Rick Hammond for questioning, but other than that, all we can do is keep an eye out for things." He said, fingering some files he was clearly more interested in.

"I told you it would be a waste of time." I said to Martha.

"Excuse me?" Jones looked up, stunned.

"You lot never put out for people like us. You're all the same. Always sitting on your asses and never going out to do some actual work." I said, not giving a damn.

"Claudia..." Martha hissed.

"It's true! They haven't even found the men who killed our parents!" with that I stormed out, fuming. I knew it would end up like that, but I still couldn't hold back of anger towards the reality of it. The police were infuriating! They couldn't even do their jobs right! I marched through the waiting room and towards the reception, but the little girl still caught my eye. She was begging her mother to stop crying, her own tears streaming down her face now. My heart sank and I gave her a long look of pity, all the while thinking: _Point proven. _

Once I was outside, I was able to calm down. Martha and Gwen appeared soon enough, mouths agape at the stunt I had pulled in there. I didn't care. They didn't comment on it, knowing better. Instead, Martha began to make way for home, but I lingered slightly. She looked over her shoulder at me, but I turned to Gwen, who seemed to be looking much better now that she was out of the station. Something told me that something had happened to her, too, thus making me feel bad for her. What for was yet to be discovered.

"Sorry for being so... upfront in the bathrooms." I said somewhat gingerly. She smiled.

"Don't worry about it." she glanced at Martha and then back at me. "Fancy hanging out, since we're here, we could get a coffee or something."

"I've no money on me."

"I have plenty. My treat." I looked at Martha, who was smiling radiantly.

"Go ahead, I'll see you at home." She said, waving me off.

"What about Rick The Di-" I finished that sentence with a grin. She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Meet me at my work place at five. I'll see if I can get an extra shift." I was glad she wasn't going home. It gave me a peace of mind. With that she headed off, jogging across the busy roads and out of sight. I looked at Gwen and offered a small smile.

"Where to, Blondie?" I asked.

"It's Gwen, and wherever you want." She said, frowning at the name Blondie. I smiled crookedly.

"Blondie or Barbie?" I said. "Take your pick." She sighed heavily, but she smiled nonetheless.

"Fine, you can call me either, but try and squeeze in Gwen at some point, or I might just purposely ignore you."

I grinned, silently thinking that she was probably right to ignore me. But in spite of myself I was enjoying her company. And then my mind wondered to Peter, and I wondered where he was at this moment in time. I also found that I wanted to see him. But he could wait, for romance was at the bottom of my list for now. I had mysteries to unravel, starting with Miss Gwen Stacy.

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**Peter will be back in the next chapter, I promise!**


	23. Complications

**GUYS! 200 REVIEWS! ****You are all so amazing! And there are so many followers! Thank you so much for all your support, means so much to me and motivates me to continue writing! You are all just absolutely amazing, lovely, stunning... I love you all! :D**

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"So, what's the deal with the police station?" I asked while nibbling on a chocolate muffin, picking at it absently with my fingers. We were perched on a wall outside of a small park, where children were playing and teenagers were playing football. The sun was beaming today, the air getting hotter as the day went on. I had peeled out of my hoody and tied it around my waist with the sleeves, the slight breeze keeping my skin from sizzling. Gwen was sitting rather rigidly, her back straight and her legs dangling happily down the wall. I, however, was lying on my back, my head furthest away from her.

"Huh?" she said absently, sipping at the take out coffee she had purchased for herself. I rolled my eyes, sitting up slightly and leaning back on my forearms. She looked at me, looking to be confused.

"Don't play dumb. You couldn't wait to get out of there." I said. "Why?"

She giggled nervously, shaking her head at the sky. "Don't be ridiculous." She scoffed, taking a large mouthful from the coffee cup. She swallowed hard and her eyes screwed up, indicating the burning of her tongue. I smirked at her when she gave me an embarrassed side glance.

"Heads up!" bellowed one of the guys playing football. Gwen looked back and then ducked, and at the same time I lunged up and caught the ball in my hands. Gwen looked at me, stunned. I looked towards the boy who had shouted, now walking toward us with his arms open. I thought about throwing it to him, but he had annoyed me. "Cheers, babe!" he said, tipping me off.

"Go fetch!" and with that I lobbed the ball into the road and across the street. He cursed at me, jumping the wall and jogging after it.

"Jerk." Gwen sneered, glaring at the boy's back.

"Where were we?" I said casually, making sure that she knew I hadn't forgotten what topic we were on. She looked at me, and my heart stung. She wore a sad expression, so incredibly sad, and I felt all the jokes leave the atmosphere. I looked around to see that there were many prying eyes and ears. Sighing, I hopped down from the wall, abandoning the muffin.

"Come on." I said, snagging the sleeve of her cardigan. She followed quite willingly, for tears had suddenly appeared in her eyes. I couldn't shake the guilt that crept into my veins, for I knew I had pushed her on a topic she had been clearly trying to avoid. I hurried along, pulling her with me, taking her to a separate park which was abandoned. By the time I plonked her down on a swing, she was wiping under her eyes with her sleeves. I gingerly sat beside her, watching her and waiting for her to compose herself.

"I'm sorry." She said, sniffling. I smiled kindly, shaking my head. After a few minutes she was laughing to herself, ashamed.

"I hoped I didn't have to go into that place again." she choked. I frowned, not understanding. Sighing, she lifted her chin in confidence and composer. "My dad used to work there, he was in charge. He died about five months ago."

I thought my heart stopped.

"I'm... I'm so sorry." I said, completely lost for words. "I didn't know."

She waved a hand, smiling. "Don't worry about it. It's just that going in there threw me off course."

"What happened?" I asked quietly, gripping the chain of the swing and rocking myself back and forth. She smoothed the skirt she was wearing, pulling the sleeves over her fingers as if to distract herself. She wouldn't look at me, and I couldn't help but see her differently. She looked so fragile and lost, and I couldn't help but see myself in her, see the girl I used to be once upon a time. It was amazing how two different people could relate.

"Would you find it crazy if I told you a giant lizard killed him?" she said with dark humour. That was the second time the lizard scenario had popped up, but at the time I hadn't really known much about it. It had been mere weeks after mom and dad died, so I had other things on my mind. I had seen new flashes, seen newspaper reports, but I had never taken any notice. Apparently it had attacked the school, but I hadn't been there at the time and school closed for a few weeks during its repair. The whole thing had seemed too crazy to be real, but then again, we live in a world where virtually anything is possible.

"Peter was there when he died, just after he stopped the lizard, AKA, Dr Connors." Dr Connors, I had heard of him. A scientist of some sort. The main detail I knew about him now was that he was securely locked in jail.

"You don't have to explain." I said, biting my lip in guilt. She shook her head and finally looked me in the eyes.

"I do." Her voice was hard, determined, and I found myself admiring her sudden strength. "He died doing what he loved: protecting the city. It helps to know that he didn't die in vain. But I promised myself I wouldn't go into that police station again, the one place that would always remind me of how he died." And then she fell quiet, looking at the ground. We remained silent for a few minutes, until I croaked out words I didn't mean to say.

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Get by. Smile all the time, laugh and crack jokes? How can you do that?" I thought about Peter. He had told me that he got by with the closure of helping others. But how did Gwen get by? She cracked a sad smile, sighing heavily.

"I have something you don't." She said, looking ahead. "My father's killer is in jail, whereas yours isn't."

There was nothing left to say.

We stayed in that park until about four o'clock, talking about anything but murderers and deaths. I wanted to distract her, for today had been harder on her than it had been on me. She was also a good distraction for myself, too, for I was sick of having Rick floating around in my thoughts. It was when we got to our feet to leave that a certain voice halted us.

"Guys! Wait up!" Peter came out of nowhere, jogging towards us across the field beside the park. I heart suddenly felt lighter from the sight of him, thumping in anticipation. He looked just the same as he usually did, wearing the same theme in his clothes right to the fine quality of his hair. But I couldn't see him for the boy who entered my life by force, nor could I see him as Spiderman. Everything about him was in a new light, a light that I continued to embrace.

I grinned at him.

"What's up?" Gwen said, smiling also.

"The sky." He answered, cracking a grin as he halted before us. He looked at me, and I couldn't help but notice how his eyes landed on my lips for a moment.

"Ha, ha, funny." Gwen scoffed, playfully punching his arm. I wanted very much to pull him close, have his lips touching mine, but all I could do was stare at the two of them. They seemed very in touch with one another, and I had a feeling that at one point or another they had been more than friends. If that was the case, which would have explained Gwen's jealous tone earlier, then I didn't want to push the girl too far. Besides, I had to stay focussed on the goal of finding out what was going on with Rick Hammond. However, I also wanted to know what the history between these two was, and I had the nagging feeling that things were going to get complicated.

"You know what, I need to get out of here. I need to meet up with Martha." I said hurriedly. They looked at me, both suddenly looking like two disappointed children. "I'll see you guys tomorrow, and I'll pay you back." I said the second half to Gwen.

"Can I come over? Tonight I mean?" Peter said just as I was about to turn my back.

"Ah..." I looked at Gwen, who was now looking at anything but us. I bit my lip, which seemed to answer Peter's question. He nodded. "See ya, guys."

God, I wanted out of there! I had never been a fan of tension filled scenarios, for I had always wanted to keep things as uncomplicated as possible. But I knew at that point that my friendship with Gwen and my relationship with Peter were going to put some strain on all of us. I wasn't ready for that, not yet. My life was complicated enough as it was!

Ten minutes after I had left, I pushed my way into Martha's work cafe. It was empty, for it was getting close to closing hours. Sundays were always lazy days in this place. I found Martha sitting at the somewhat breakfast bar, chatting away to her boss. Her boss was a plump woman in her forties, with dyed blonde hair and a heavy layer of makeup in an attempt to stay young. She was called Jennifer Cunningham, and, all things said, she was actually a lovely woman. I strolled over, plonking myself on the stool beside Martha, who gave me a short greeting.

I watched as Jennifer did a double take on me. She hasn't seen me since before the murder, and she was certainly not expecting to see me with a stitched gash on my face. However, she smiled nonetheless.

"Goodness me, Martha, I haven't seen Claudia here in, well, too long!" she said, laughing to hide her shock. I offered a sheepish smile, mentally blaming Peter for making me soft. A few weeks ago, I would have been working up an insult towards the woman.

"How's it hanging?" I said quietly.

"All's good here, sweetie." She said, but purposely avoided returning the question. I found myself grateful, for I had had enough awkward interactions for one day. "How about you get yourself off, darling, it was supposed to be your day off." She said to Martha.

"It's done me some good, actually." Martha said, waving off the comment.

"Perhaps, but right now I want you to go home, settle down with a cuppa and then watch some good old classic movie. You two girls get off, and for goodness sake, keep that vile man far away." She ushered us off, shooing us out of the shop playfully. I looked at Martha.

"Vile man?" I asked, raising a brow.

"I may have confided in her a little." She said, looking a little sheepish.

"I prefer to refer to him as Rick The Di-"

"_Of course _you do." She said, quickly cutting me off. Come on, let's get home."

"Think he's still there?"

"If he is, then he really isn't the brightest of people."

He wasn't there when we got back, and I happily collapsed on the sofa after an exhausting day. I replayed my conversation with Gwen, letting it slowly sink in. Like Peter, I felt connected to her somehow, especially with that knowledge that we had something to relate to. It was amazing that the darker reality was, the easier to brought people together. And there was one thing I understood for certain. Time was the key. But time could also be a total bitch. It may have been bringing me closer to people, but it was also working against me in so many other ways.

With each passing day, Rick was probably getting more and more infuriated. Rick was a man with little patience, and he was now under the influence of a bad crowd and alcohol. Perhaps he was getting driven by lust, which was also no help. I wasn't prepared for him to lay a hand on Martha, and I also wasn't prepared to go out looking for the guys who attacked me. All I could do was wait. The longer we kept shutting him out, the more he was going to force his way in. And when he did force his way in, I was going to be ready.

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**You know what to do!**


	24. 4AM

**So, after weeks and weeks of none stop rain, today has been incredibly hot and sunny, putting me in a very good mood! So I thought "Okay, you guys have suffered enough!" And I now present to you some heavy Peter/Claudia! Enjoy! :D And did you know I love you guys?**

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The soft tapping on my window woke me from my slumber. I couldn't remember falling asleep, and I certainly couldn't remember climbing onto my bed. I slowly opened my eyes and blinked away the grogginess, looking at the alarm clock on the side of my bed. Four in the morning. Groaning, I looked at the window, thinking that it may be the wind or something. But then my heart did a flip of alarm and excitement, and I suddenly felt very awake. Peter was on the fire escape, peeking through rather sheepishly. Jumping from my bed, still fully clothed, I pushed open the window and hauled him inside.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed, but he cut me off by crushing his lips onto mine. I couldn't help but kiss him back, wrapping my arms around his neck while his went into my hair. My entire body ached for more, the pain in my muscles not bothering me one bit. I wanted to kiss him like this forever, but the better part of me broke out and I pulled away. Reluctantly.

"Seriously, what are you doing here?" I whispered harshly. "Martha will be in the other room." He grinned in the low light and smoothed my hair, kissing me once again. I moaned in bliss and frustration, pushing him away yet again.

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her." He said in a hushed voice. His mouth was moving along my good cheek, moving down to my jaw and around my earlobe. My breathing hitched, his lips leaving the familiar burning on my skin that I had become accustomed to. I listened to him inhale my scent, trembling as he did. His name slipped from my lips, a whining sound for him constantly distracting me, but also a sound of somewhat bliss. He chuckled, and finally, he pulled away.

It took me a moment to clear my head, and I hated him for being able to intoxicate and disorientate me so easily. A smug looked crossed his face and he perched himself on my bed, grabbing one of my pillows and hugging it to his chest. Rubbing my temples, I tried to make sense of our current situation. He was here, in my bedroom, at four in the morning, and Martha was only in the next room. I plonked myself down on the corner of the bed, and by now Peter was chuckling. I turned to him and glared.

"Don't get so cocky." I sneered, but the playful tinge still played with my voice.

He pouted for a moment, and then he grinned as he reached for my hand. I gasped, feeling his strength as he pulled me to him, holding me in his arms. His lips were at my ear, his words soft.

"I missed you today." He murmured, kissing my hair.

"We had to make an emergency escape." I told him, snuggling into his chest.

"Why?"

"Rick made an unwanted appearance." I felt his body tense instantly, feel his hate radiating from his solid body. I didn't miss how his arms tightened around me, promising the protection I had denied I needed until recently. I heard the grinding of his teeth and I couldn't help but smile.

"You should have called." He said, burying his face in my throat. I had wanted to see him all day, but I had been too focussed on the objectives Martha and I had set. Besides, if I had met him, I wouldn't have learnt what I needed to know about Gwen, among other things. I thought about it for a moment, and the image of the two together floated into my thoughts. A frown clouded my expression.

"Tell me something." I said quietly, turning my head to look at him. "What's the deal between you and Blondie?"

"Gwen?" his own frown flooded into his face. "It's... complicated."

"It's about to _get _complicated." I said, pushing him. "Just tell me."

He sighed, closing his glistening hazel eyes. "Before her dad died, we were sort of together." I could hear that this was hard for him to say, but I couldn't escape the pang of jealousy that stabbed my heart. At least my suspicions were proven.

"What happened?" I whispered, looking away now.

"Her dad made me promise something. Before he died, he made me promise to keep Gwen safe by staying away from her. I tried to keep that promise, but Gwen was the only person who had been there for me, so I found that I couldn't do it." I felt a lump in my throat and I furiously tried to swallow it back down.

"She still likes you, I think." I whispered.

"I know. But I owe her dad as much as to keep my involvement with her to a minimum." He sighed, his breath hot on my shoulder. His words made sense to me. Keeping Gwen at arm's length was the least he could do in her dad's honour. But that made things what I expected. Complicated. I wasn't prepared to push Gwen to the limit by showing off my involvement with Peter. I was many things, but I still respected other's pain. And I was beginning to imagine the kind of pain Gwen would feel if she saw us together, and I was not about to inflict that on her.

"I don't want to push her." I murmured.

"But she knows we're... involved. How can we push her any more than that?"

"We control ourselves when she's with us." I smiled, and he smiled back. Delicately, he took my chin and planted his lips softly on mine. They lingered there for a moment until he dipped his head, his forehead now against mine.

"So, where are _we_ in all this?" he said, gliding his nose along mine.

"What do you mean?" I croaked.

"I mean, are we... together?" he seemed to struggle to say what he wanted to say. But I understood, and I wasn't sure what the answer was. Were we together as boyfriend and girlfriend, or were we just a somewhat fling? However, I didn't care. All I cared about was the here and now, and that for the moment, I had him and he had me. We didn't need a status.

"We don't need a status, not yet." I whispered. "Just be happy that you have me for the moment."

"I'm not letting you slip away any time soon." He said roughly, kissing my throat. Moving north, he caught my mouth in his again, and we engaged in a slow, heart throbbing kiss. His mouth moulded into mine, swallowing up my soul. It had only been over a day without him, and I only now realised how much I had missed him. I gripped his hair possessively, greedily wanting more of him. His taste had my mouth watering, and my hunger for him grew to no end. I was on his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist. His arms kept me locked to him, and yet it just wasn't enough. I couldn't myself getting lost in our kiss, and I thought that if I didn't pull away soon, I would go to the point of no return.

He pulled away before I could, both of us out of breath. He was grinning like an idiot, looking cockier than ever. I ran my tongue along my lips, collecting his lingering taste.

"Won't your Aunt May be worried?" I asked him in an attempt to distract myself. He chuckled lowly.

"She thinks I'm in bed." he murmured. "And I wanted to see you."

"So you had to come at four in the morning?" I asked, raising my brow.

"I've had a busy evening." He said. He tugged his t-shirt down slightly, revealing the familiar red and black pattern of his Spiderman suit. I laughed softly, stifling a yawn. Hearing the yawn in my voice, he took me in his arms, stood up, and then placed me down on the mattress. I suddenly felt cold with his body against mine, but it didn't last long. The single bed mattress sank under his added weight, his arms snaking around his and holding me close. He also yawned in my ear, burying his face in my hair. I fell asleep with a smile on my face, and I felt myself snuggle into him as the world of dreams took me under.

When I woke up in the morning, he was gone.

The following day, Peter and I kept to our agreement and had little to do with one another when Gwen was around. The most we did was speak. Gwen seemed to appreciate this immensely, for the entire day went by with little awkwardness. I was glad I could make her feel more comfortable, and I also felt a little closer to her now that we had something to connect to.

The week flew by, with no sign of Rick and a lot of Peter. Martha seemed to be a little more calm now that all seemed to have settled again, and we spoke almost all the time with the passing days. The atmosphere around me felt lighter, the darkness seeping away with my growing bonds. I felt little energy to go after Rick. He could come after me first. All I was aware of was my slow friendship with Gwen, the rebuilding bond between me and Martha, and the blossoming romance with Peter. For the first time in a long time, things seemed almost perfect.

Gwen was begging me to go dress shopping with her on Friday, but I continued to refuse.

"There is no way in hell! Deal with it, Barbie!" I was saying, both of us walking towards our next class. I was dropping Gwen off at her door, Peter having gone for an "emergency dentist appointment".

"Please! I'm begging you!" she whined, putting her hands together as if she was praying. I laughed.

"No!"

"You're such a spoil sport!"

"That's how I like it." she groaned in annoyance. Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, she started inside her classroom.

"See you later."

I grinned and walked off to my class. Sitting down, I actually paid attention to what the teacher was saying. I even answered a few questions, earning _many _stares from my fellow classmates and the teacher himself. And I couldn't find the will to care, smiling sheepishly instead. Some of the students murmured to one another in astonishment, for it was the first time they had properly heard my voice in so long. At the end of class, the teacher stopped me from leaving. He said that he was proud that I was engaging in the class discussions and that I should take part more often. I left feeling lighter than a feather.

Yep, things were slowly getting better. I still didn't trust anyone other than the three keys in my life, but I was finally seeing beyond the reality of life. Bad things happened, but good things always followed. It was hard to believe that I had tried to take my own life about a month ago, and I was so glad that I had given life a second chance without even realising it.

But all good things had to come to an end. I kept telling myself that. Rick was going to make an appearance, and I had to be ready to protect the only family I had left. Maybe I was overreacting, maybe I was being too careful. But this was New York, and nothing was ever perfect in New York for long.

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**Yay or nay?**


	25. Watching

**Hey again guys! :D Now, this is a little different from all the other chapters... I thought to put in a little twist :P Now, to the question Night-Weaver 369 asked, I cannot reply directly if you do not have an account... But Claudia is based on a mix of people from my personal life and myself, and I have also grabbed inspiration from TV shows, books, films and stuff like that to bring Claudia and this story to life :) Hope that answers your question! Now, without further or do, I give you chapter 25! :D**

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Rick Hammond had always hated that brat by the name of Claudia Thatcher, right from the beginning. He had hated her before the death of her parents and after. He hated her before because of how false she seemed, looking far too innocent and naive. He hated the dark looks she would give him without realising it, those ocean blue eyes holding many doubts. He had thought she could see through him, see that he was so much more than what he seemed. He had never anticipated to feel such hate toward Martha's sister, but it wasn't until after the murders that he couldn't hold back his loathing.

He had always liked a good fighter. Challenges were his specialty. But he loved beating that girl to a pulp, for she really knew how to push his buttons. However, over the last few weeks, she had changed. Her old self was emerging, and she was making things so much harder. She had convinced Martha to turn her back on him, and now she wouldn't let him get anywhere near Martha. Once upon a time, those sisters had hated one another, but now, now things were not going well at all. He needed Martha. He needed her _money. _

And that little bitch was getting in the way.

For the last week, ever since Jacky and his crew had beaten the crap out of her, he had been watching her from afar. She was getting cosy with two other teens, a brunette boy and blonde girl. The blonde had been the girl from that night, the one who had ruined everything before the Crawler entered the scene. She would have to pay for a start. The boy, however, remained a mystery to him. All he knew about him was that he was strong, for he had been in the apartment one night and defended _poor little Claudia. _The two of them followed Claudia as if they were her body guards, and they were beginning to get on Rick's nerves. He needed to get Claudia alone, or Martha, he didn't care which. But he mainly wanted to deal with Claudia himself.

He needed to get into the apartment. He needed to get his prised possession from there, but there was no way he was going to get it if the sisters were playing happy families.

But Rick Hammond always got what he wanted.

The relationship between Claudia and the boy troubled him the most. He had seen them alone, walking away from crowded areas before slipping their hands together. Were they together? Had Claudia actually fallen for someone? That wasn't good. If that were the case, she was never going to be seen alone, not like she used to. It was really beginning to piss him off.

It was Saturday, and Rick was watching his little friend hopelessly trying to flip a skateboard under her feet. It was closing in on sunset, and the skate park was completely empty apart from Claudia and her two friends. The blonde was lying on the floor, soaking up the last of the rays, whereas the boy was laughing at Claudia's terrible attempts. Rick hated how happy she looked. She deserved to be miserable. No, she deserved to be dead.

He touched his cheek, replaying how the now healing claws marks had appeared there. He remembered the pain when Claudia had lashed at him, tearing through his skin in fury. He had always loved him confrontations with her, for she never held back. It made her interesting, if not all the more exciting. He wanted the final confrontation with her to go down with a bang, for she had ruined all of his plans. He found himself glad that his men hadn't killed her there in the street, for he could torment her beyond madness. Clearly, these teens meant something to her as did Martha, and he was happy to use them against her.

He couldn't help but pick up on the longing gazes between his girl and the boy, especially when the blonde wasn't looking. They shared secret smiles, touched whenever they got the chance. It was obvious that something was going on between them, making things all the more interesting. He watched as the boy placed his hands on his girl's hips, steadying her on the board. She was laughing. His girl was _laughing! _She shouldn't be laughing. She should be miserable. She deserved misery for ruining all he had worked for.

The Thatcher family were wealthy bastards, truly they were. Mark and Ashley Thatcher, the parents, had been so very wealthy. They were the talk of the neighbourhood. Mark had been working as a surgeon, Chief surgeon actually, and Ashley had been a brilliant journalist/photographer. They flood in the cash, giving their two daughters the life of luxury.

But Rick Hammond had had to work all his life. His father had owned a corner shop, that's all, and his mother had been unemployed. When his father went to work, he had to put up with the violence of his mother. Rick had had a terrible childhood, suffering beatings from that beastly woman. He always got picked on at school, forced into smoking and drinking. But he had pulled through. He had left that house at the age of sixteen and moved in with his grandmother, and then moved on at the age of twenty. He was now twenty six and was getting by, or at least he was. He had found Martha, learned about her family, and then planned on sharing all of her money.

Martha, the perfect woman. Naive, beautiful, wealthy. She had been so easy to wrap around his finger, pulling her into a false sense of security. He pretended to offer her protection, love and a marriage. But his real plan had been to marry her, stay married for a year, and then leave her with half of the money. But things were never that simple. But he thought that once the parents were out of the picture and all the money was handed down to the sisters, all would be perfect.

He never anticipated Claudia being part of that picture.

The blonde was talking now. She was saying that she needed to get home to help her mother with her work. His girl and the boy insisted on taking her home, and the dynamic trio left the park in complete harmony, unaware of Rick's presence. He watched as the boy swung his arm around Claudia's shoulder, laughing and joking with them. Claudia playfully shoved him away, and then the three disappeared around the corner.

She was too happy for her own good. Damn that blonde and fancy man. They would both have to pay. Rick was going to get that money that the girls had not earned. He wasn't even sure if Claudia knew about the money her parents had left her. But he needed that money, for himself and for his growing business. His illegal business, he might add, but that was all part of the fun. It was amazing what you could get away with in the city, from robbing banks to dealing drugs.

He considered following them, but he could wait. Let her feel safe and secure, and then shatter her would once again. Oh, she was so weak. She should have known better than to start trusting again. She should have seen sense and not fall to the power of love. Because it was love that would destroy her.

And he simply couldn't wait.

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Gwen's house was pretty damn pretty. She let me and Peter inside, saying we could stay for a while. I looked around in awe, embracing its space and feeling far too unsophisticated to be in here. It was so bright and open, immediately making you feel at home. But there was a dark tint to it, the remainders of the hurt atmosphere left behind by the death of her father. She had left me and Peter standing in the hall way, insisting that we waited for her to get her mother to meet me. While I looked around, gawping at the photos on the wall and embracing the warmth, Peter's fingers kept touching mine discreetly. I rolled my eyes, for he was always insisting on touching me, but I secretly enjoyed it all the same.

Gwen came back with a woman. I suddenly felt a little self conscious, and I wanted to suddenly run away and hide. I had always hated being put on the spot.

"Mom, this is Claudia Thatcher." Gwen said sweetly. I swallowed, forcing a smile to the pretty woman before me. She looked normal enough, but the faint pain in her grey eyes was unmistakable. My heart instantly went out to her. Judging by the photos around us, she had to raise four children by herself, three boys and Gwen. I couldn't imagine how difficult that must be for her. She smiled at me and held out her hand, and I gingerly placed mine in hers in a handshake.

"It's lovely to meet you, Claudia, Gwen has been speaking so much about you." she said. I instantly liked this woman, for she didn't even glance at my cheek, but stared straight into my eyes. I instantly felt respect for her.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs Stacy." I said softly. She released my hand and looked at Peter, who nodded his head and smiled politely. She smiled back and touched his cheek playfully.

"Would either of you like a drink?"

We stopped for an hour or so. All the boys of the family were out, leaving mother and daughter with a night to themselves. I felt as if we were intruding, but Mrs Stacy insisted on us staying for a while. She was very fond of Peter, that much was easy to tell. And the way she spoke of her late husband had me wanting to comfort her so much. She had loved that man with all her heart. He was her entire world next to her children. I listened intently to her stories of him, for I was both curious and I knew that she just wanted people to confide in. And, in return, I ended up telling stories of my own family, and another tonne was lifted from my heart.

Peter and I said our goodbyes to Gwen, promising to meet up over the weekend. Once she closed the door, Peter took my hand in his and led the way out of her building.

"I'm glad you and Gwen are friends." He said. "She adores you, you know."

"She's okay I guess." I said jokingly, earning a chuckle.

"Have you thought any more about going to that dance yet?"

"Nope, and the answer is still no." He laughed, kissing my temple.

"We'll see." He said. We left Gwen's neighbourhood, the muggy air uncomfortable now. However, it didn't take me long to know that Peter was taking me in the opposite direction to my home.

"Where are we going?" I asked, looking up at him curiously. Mischief clouded his eyes, and his grin had my stomach fluttering with nerves.

"My house, as long as we're having family meetings, you might as well meet my Aunt May. She's been dying to meet you." he told me, laughing at the shock on my face. "She's not going to kill you, you know."

"Have I ever told you how pushy you are?" I said.

"Yeah, once." He laughed. I rolled my eyes. I let him lead the way through the quiet neighbourhoods, the sun now settling behind the clouds and darkening the world around us. We walked past a row of houses, all connected with lovely porches which were now being lit by automatic lights. Finally, he pulled me up the steps of door thirty six.

Once again I felt a little nervous, for more pain went on behind this door. But there was something about the way Peter spoke of his aunt that made me want to meet her. Perhaps it was curiosity. Either way, I wanted to make a good impression on the woman who was Peter's world. Smiling, Peter tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, squeezed my hand, and then opened the door to his world.

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**You know what to do, so make my day and send a review! (Like the rhyme there?) ;)**


	26. May

**Hey again guys! Next chapter is up! :D And one of you asked a question about when this story is going to end.. Well, it wont be long now I'm afraid. Claudia's story is slowly reaching its peak :( But don't worry, there are still plenty more chapter until we say our farewells, unless you want it to end of course (I hope not!) Anyway, I give you the next chapter!**

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Peter's home was fairly large, but not as glamorous as Gwen's. It had a strange feel to it, like it seemed too empty of life. The air was too... still, that was a good word. However, the first thing I noticed was a photo on a coffee table just beside the front door. The photo was of Peter and a couple behind him, professionally taken. The photo had been taken recently, sometime the previous year, and I instantly knew it was his aunt and uncle.

The woman was beaming at the camera, dark curly hair flowing over her shoulders. Her eyes gave away beauty she once possessed in her youth, still twinkling with solid life. She looked to be a frail woman, but strong at the same time. She looked so innocent. And the man beside her, his hair greying but his youth reflected through his smile, had my heart turn into a rock in my chest. The way he had his hand on Peter's shoulder told me that the two shared a bond of respect, promising to always be there. A promise he unintentionally broke.

"Aunt May?" Peter called, pulling me back to reality.

"In the living room." Called a voice, a voice that sounded strong but gentle at the same time. Peter pulled me along, clearly itching for our introduction. I wanted to gaze at his home, the place he had grown up in, and the place he had suffered the most pain in. However, I was pulled into the secure feeling of the living room, and a small woman was seated on a sofa with a book in her hands. May Parker. She looked up as we entered, pulling her reading glasses down her nose. One look at me had her smiling brilliantly, warming me to the bone. I clung to Peter's arm like a child, smiling at the woman with shyness I didn't know I possessed.

"Aunt May, this is Claudia." Peter said confidently. May took me in, looked right through me and into my soul. She placed down her book and stood, walking slowly towards me.

"It's... nice to meet you, Mrs Parker." I said quietly, getting sucked into her once twinkling eyes. But there was something else there, something that consisted of strong wisdom and... love, such powerful love. The love of a mother, an aunt, a sibling, a best friend.

"And you, Claudia, Peter never stops talking about you." she said, smiling sweetly. She took my hand from my side in both of hers. "I thought he was exaggerating your good looks." She smirked at her nephew, who was now intently focussed playing with his hair. May Parker was a small woman, barely taller than me and looking like a child against her nephew. It added to her innocent look, and I just couldn't find myself able to distrust her. I should have been cursing myself, for I knew I was being weak, but she looked as if she didn't have a bad bone in her.

"What has he told you about me?" I asked, generally curious. She released my hands and giggled at my question.

"If I told you that, I'm not sure he'd let me see the light of day again." she said. She looked at Peter, who was actually _blushing. _I bit my lip to hide my grin, whereas May lightly punched his arm. "You haven't offered her a drink!" she scolded, and I burst out a laugh.

"Ouch!" he said, but his voice sounded anything but pain filled. A playful scowl reflected on May's face and Peter sighed in defeat. "Would you like a drink?" he asked me. I smiled.

"Yes please." I said. I didn't need to tell him that I wanted a coffee or how I liked it, he had picked up on it at Gwen's house.

"Me too, thanks dear." May said, and she then grasped my hand. Peter slouched off to the kitchen, while May plonked me down on the sofa and took a seat beside me. She stared at me intently, taking in every detail of my eyes, face and hair. I let her take in the sight before her, my heart pounding with nerves. Was she appalled at who Peter was mixing with? Was she disgusted at my exhausted, damaged face? Did she approve of me at all? But then she smiled, confidently tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, the same one Peter had outside the door.

"That boy, he never was the best of hosts." She told me, placing her glasses on top of her head. I laughed softly.

"I don't mind, I'm not much of a host myself." I said.

"I've heard that you and Peter have a lot in common." The gleam in her eyes told me that she knew Peter and I were somewhat involved, but she was decent enough to not bring it up. I shrugged at her statement, not sure what to say. My eyes wondered, and they landed on a photo of herself and Ben Parker on the fireplace. She followed my gaze, and I noticed how her body sagged.

"He was a good man, Ben Parker was." She said sadly.

"I'm sorry." I murmured, folding my hands between my knees.

"I'm sorry, too. About your parents, I mean." Normally, I would have lashed out at such a statement. But they way she said it had me take a different approach. She just sounded so... sincere. There was one thing I couldn't stand about people, which was when they commented on a tragedy, said they were sorry about it, but underneath they really didn't care. But I could feel her heart reaching out to me, her sadness for me radiating from her like the heat of a burning fire. She knew the pain I felt, how engulfing it was. She knew what it was to be me, just like Peter and Gwen.

So instead I gave her a sad smile, look down at my hands. Her hand came down on my shoulder and she scooted closer to me.

"It gets easier, you know. I promise you it does." She told me softly.

"I know." I murmured, warming to her motherly touch. Peter came in then, holding a mug in each hand filled with steaming liquid. He handed us one each, taking a seat on the arm of the sofa beside me. And then I asked a question about their fallen loved one.

"What was he like?" I said quietly, hoping deeply that I wasn't crossing any sort of line. But both simply smiled, sharing a knowing look.

"He was a brilliant man." May said lovingly. "He always put out and helped to give us a good life."

"And he lived off embarrassing me." Peter added.

"You made it easy." May countered. "You still do." I loved the relationship between these two, for it seemed so easy and natural. And how they spoke of Ben Parker had me remembering the relationship between myself and my dad. We always joked around, insulting one another and teasing each other to the point where mom would angrily tell us to stop and grow up. I had always seen my relationship with my dad as equal and easy, for I never had to be careful around him. When I went out, he would jokingly say "No drugs, alcohol or sex!" and I'd reply with, "Don't worry, I'll do all of that!". It drove mom insane, and we both got a kick out of it. But he always used to tease me when it came to boys. I would hide the fact that I'd go out and meet up with boys, for I knew I'd never hear the end of the teasing should he have known. The memories made me smile softly to myself.

"He sounds similar to how my dad was." I said softly.

"Oh?" May said, generally curious. Peter stared at me with a worried expression, clearly thinking that this may be too much for me. But, in all honesty, I found myself not too bothered about it.

"He was more of my best friend than my father. Teased me at any chance he got."

"Oh, Ben drove Peter up the wall at times." She said, laughing at the memories of her past. Peter simply rolled his eyes.

"Dad and I drove my mom up the wall." I said, giggling.

"What did your parents do for a living?" Peter asked gently. I smiled at him.

"My dad was a chief surgeon, and my mom worked as a journalist and sometimes worked in the photography field." I told them.

"Oh! Peter is interested in photography." May said enthusiastically. I adored this woman now. She didn't linger on the past, but made use of it in the present. It was easy to talk of my parents, for she didn't linger on the topic for long. I looked at Peter quizzically.

"You never told me." I said. He shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

"I never got the chance." He said. May clicked her tongue in disapproval, waving a finger at him.

"You have a talent, young man, use it and express it!" she scolded, standing and lightly smacking him across the head. I laughed.

They helped to demolish the sadness that lurked on the walls, offered hope that I had refused to cling to. The bond they shared was impeccable, that much was easy to tell, and I respected them both for it. It made me miss what I had once hand with Martha.

When I finished my coffee, Peter slipped my hand in his and pulled me to my feet. May was the one ushering us off, saying she wanted to read her book, but we both knew that she wanted us to have some 'alone time'. So, quite happily, Peter led me up the stairs of his home, opening the door to his bedroom. I was excited to see his room, which was rather spacious and incredibly open, even in the low light. He turned on the light, which bounced brightly from the white walls.

His bedroom was very stereotypical. A single bed, a desk with a computer, a few posters on the walls. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it was the peculiar lock on the door that grabbed my attention. Peter observed me, chuckling.

"I made it myself." He said. "I can control it from the computer."

"Impressive." I said, giving him a side look. He laughed, reeling me into him and planting his lips on mine. He caught me in a kiss that left me wanting more, so before he could pull away I bit his lower lip. I was shocked even with myself, but he responded positively and deepened the kiss. My back came against the door, trapping me with his body. But he backed away, only a little, his breath hot in my mouth as he caught his breath. I grinned, poking his nose and then gently pushing him away.

"You make it hard to control myself, you know." He said, licking his lip.

"I like risks." I retorted. He chuckled lowly, pulling me to him and wrapping his arms around me.

"She likes you a lot, you know. She hardly ever speaks of Uncle Ben." He said, his tone now serious.

"I like her, too. She's lovely." I told him honestly. "What exactly have you told her about me?"

He chuckled, taking my face in his hands. "That you're beautiful," he kissed my left temple. "that you're stubborn," he kissed my right temple. "that you are the strongest person I know," he kissed the tip of my nose. "and that you mean the world to me." and then he kissed my lips tenderly. I laughed and hugged him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

We stayed up there for half an hour, simply enjoying one another's company. But then I saw the time and that it was closing in on nine o'clock, and that Martha would be home soon from her late shift. Peter was happy to take me home, and he took me down to say my farewells to May.

"Goodnight, sweetie, it was lovely meeting you at last." She said, shocking me by hugging me. She then pulled away and pointed at Peter. "You come home straight away, okay?" she said, a warning in her voice. Peter nodded and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"I'll be home before half past." He told her.

"Goodbye, Mrs Parker." I said, just about to step out of the door.

"Please, call me May." She said, smiling. I smiled back, nodding.

Pulling me out, Peter power-walked away from the neighbourhood. I was about to ask him what was his rush, but my unspoken question was quickly answered when he wrapped his arm around my wait, lifted his arm up and enclosed his two fingers to his palm. With a gasp, I clung to him as our feet left the ground.

When I got home, Martha was leaning on the back of the sofa as she waited for me. I entered and closed the door softly behind me. A certain ache enveloped me at the sight of her, and the relationship between Peter and May had my head whirling. I looked at Martha, who looked sick with worry.

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick!" she cried.

"Martha, I'm fine..."

"After what happened last week? Anything could have happened to you!" she was on the verge of tears, and then I was moving, my feet moving against my will. I walked straight to her, not missing a beat, and quickly stopped her rant by wrapping my arms around her neck and hugging her tightly. She choked on a sob, grasping me tightly and stroking my hair. I closed my eyes, hoping to ease her worry and waiting for her heartbeat to slow.

We ended up on the floor in a bundle, Martha crying freely. Even though our reality was far more different from Peter's, it somehow seemed much easier to deal with. If Peter, an orphaned by who had also suffered the loss of a father figure, could make it through, then why couldn't I? Martha and I could make it. We could recover. But first I needed to let go of the pain and look beyond it, and therefore rebuild the bond that was broken.

And no one was going to stop me.

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**Review? Please? **


	27. Dress

**Chapter 27! Again, it focuses on the somewhat friendship between Claudia and Gwen :) Hope you enjoy! **

**And to Night Weaver-369 - Music tends to be a good way to get inspiration, since songs are stories in themselves :) I always listen to music when I'm writing. Or you could do research into stories already done and get ideas from them. It's hard to keep a plot line going, trust me I know, but it also helps to have people to read while you write for it motivates you to keep writing :) Hope I helped a little :)**

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I was sitting on the floor of the living room, the TV on, the light low. Another week had passed. Time was going far too fast, and the life of my parents slipped further and further into the past. In my hands I held the holiday photo of me and my family, the one from my bedroom. It was the twenty seventh of April, exactly seven months since the murders. The realization of it had hit me hard, and I had sat staring at the photo for a good hour or so. It was nine o'clock in the evening, and this time seven months ago I was sitting numbly in a police station.

I stared at mom and dad, who were now rotting six feet underground. Flashes of the funeral clouded my thoughts, three weeks after they were killed. I remembered it so clearly, standing by Martha, numbly watching the coffins being lowered into the ground. I hadn't cried, I hadn't felt anything. I had just stared with a blank face, unseeing. But now, as I stared down at our once upon a time happiness, I felt the tears fall down my cheeks like they should have at their funerals.

The door opened and Martha stumbled inside with shopping bags.

"It's been seven months." I said quietly. I listened to the crinkling of the bags and she placed them on the counter. I could feel her eyes burning into me, and then I heard her move swiftly towards me.

"Sweetie." She said, sitting beside me and tucking my head under her chin. She had nothing else to say. Her hand rubbed my back soothingly and I sighed shakily.

"I miss them." I whispered.

"So do I." She responded, kissing my head. "But we still have each other."

"Do you think they'll ever catch who killed them?" I asked, looking into her baby blue eyes. Her lip quivered as she opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out. Her eyes answered my question.

Unlikely.

I looked back at the photo, tears falling onto the glass that protected it in the frame. Silently, Martha shifted so that she sat with her legs crossed, and then she gently pulled me into her legs and cradled me there. With delicate fingers she brushed away the liquid from the photo, planting her lips on her temple. We sat like that for a while, looking into our past that lay in my hands. I stared at myself, looking at who I used to be, and thinking about who I was becoming. I was becoming that girl again, only stronger, wiser, bolder. But at the moment, I wasn't sure who I was yet. I was in the borderline of the past and future.

I didn't know who I was anymore.

I had had many statuses in my time. As a child I had been bright, active and brave. As a teenager I had been seen as popular, beautiful and naive. As a victim I had been seen as an outcast, a freak with a black heart. But who was I now? What status did I have now? In my head I saw myself as weak, small and utterly useless. If the date of each month that represented the anniversary of their deaths affected me so easily, how was I ever going to move on? At the moment I felt fragile. I felt as if I would break at any moment. And I needed a distraction.

Now.

"I bumped into that Stacy girl just." Martha murmured, right on cue. "She said she wants you to meet her at the shopping mall tomorrow."

"What for?" I asked, frowning.

"I heard there's something about a dance this coming Friday?" dammit, that girl just wouldn't give up. But there and then I had made up my mind that I would go, just to take my mind off things. I didn't have to get anything, I would just go for Gwen's company. I hadn't had any quality time with her alone since the police station scenario, so I thought it would do us both some good.

"I'll give her a call." I said, clambering to my feet. I placed the photo on the window sill and then I walked over to the phone on the counter. Picking it up I punched in her number, looking at the note that was now stuck on the wall with blu-tack. While it rang, Martha sat on the sofa and switched on the TV, curling up into a ball like a child. I instantly knew that she'd be asleep in a matter of minutes, so I silently slipped into my room and closed the door.

When Gwen answered I got straight to the point.

"You just don't give up, do you Blondie?" I said, my mood picking up slightly at the sound of her greeting.

"Of course not!" she laughed. "Shopping mall, tomorrow at 10am sharp."

"I'm not buying a damn dress."

"Who said _you _were buying it?"

"Correction: _You _are not buying me a damn dress." I had thought I could shut the girls pestering by saying I had no money to buy a fancy dress, but it backfired and she said that she'd buy it. I listened to her laugh, grinning as I wiped my cheeks dry with my sleeve. The stitches had come out of my cheek now, leaving a somewhat scabbed over mark in its wake. It was no longer painful, along with the majority of my body. The only tender part of me now was the right side of my ribcage.

"I beg to differ. You're going to that dance even if it kills me." her voice was set and determined, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Whatever you say."

"Have you started that assignment yet?" dammit, that assignment! I had had a change of heart on that whole thing, thinking that maybe I could just write it and hand it in for the hell of it. Only it had to be in on Wednesday, and today was Saturday! I was never going to get it done! Only I just didn't want to write about romance alone. Romance was always the same. Boy meets girl, boy likes girl and girl likes boy, boy and girl kiss and all is happy and wonderful. No, it was too predictable. There was so much more to love than that.

"I'm working on it." I lied, biting my lip.

"Claudia!"

"Lay off!" I snapped playfully.

"Three days, tick tock, tick tock!" I couldn't help but laugh. Gwen always seemed to distract me, for better and for worse. Our banter and scolding always lit my mood, just like my kissing sessions with Peter always made my mind go blank. I could think like a teenager and act like a teenager when Gwen was involved. I wasn't sure what it was about her, but her constant nagging and scolding lit my spirits for I could playfully mock her in return.

We spoke for an hour or so, speaking of anything remotely unrelated to the darker sides of our lives, and then we said our goodnights and I settled in for a deep slumber. I couldn't sleep for a while, not until the room outside went silent and I heard the soft click of Martha's door. When I did sleep, however, dark pasts and unknown identities flooded my unconscious thoughts, the one place where distractions were unavailable.

By ten the next morning, I approached a bubbling looking Gwen at the shopping mall. She looked like a child who was overcome with giddiness, as if it were Christmas morning. She was swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet, biting her lip and biting her nails. I couldn't help but laugh at her, clicking my fingers in front of her face to try and grab her full attention.

"Get a grip of yourself, you look ridiculous!" I said in mock embarrassment.

"I have waited two and a half weeks for this moment! Come on, dresses await us!" I let her snag my wrist and drag me into the mall, laughing at her childish excitement. This place was huge! I used to be a regular customer here, coming with my group of 'friends' and spending money for the sake of spending money. Life had been easy then, when I had taken it for granted. But I had never really taken it all in, and the place seemed bigger than an airport to me now. It was rather daunting.

Gwen pulled me through the busy shoppers, their chatter flooding my ears and the heat of their bodies radiating onto mine. It didn't bother me as much as it should have done, but Gwen wasn't one to linger anyway. Before I knew it I was surrounded by racks of clothes, from jeans and t-shirts to over the top prom dresses. Gwen got stuck in almost instantly, filing through all the racks as if it was the last thing she was ever going to do. I stood with her awkwardly, declining each dress she pulled out and held against me. They were all beautiful, just not me.

And if she did find the one for me, I wasn't going to have it.

An hour later, we were in our fourth shop of the day. Even Gwen was beginning to lose hope for me. She had the dress she wanted purchased and in a bag hanging from her wrist. It was a long lavender maxi dress, with a bow at the left of the waist. When she tried it on she looked stunning in it, the light colour complimenting the tone of her skin. I almost envied her. I was intrigued as to how much it cost, but she smugly said that it was none of my business. I wondered away from her, tenderly touching the materials on the racks. I had no intention on browsing, but the intense colours entranced me. And that was when I found it.

On a manikin ahead, on show for the shoppers outside the shop, was a dress that had the past me screaming with longing. It was a royal blue colour, reaching just below the knees and having only one strap on the left shoulder. It clung snugly to the waist, the skirt looking light around the legs. It looked perfect in my eyes, completely plain and simple but so pretty at the same time.

"Try it on." Gwen said, making me jump. She laughed and strode forward, pulling a dress from the racks surrounding the manikin. She had a lucky guess of my size. With constant encouragement, she pushed me towards the changing rooms and practically forced me into one of the cubicles. She handed me the dress and pulled the curtain across, and I saw how she acted like a guard on the other side. Admitting defeat I sighed, peeling out of my clothes.

The dress was a perfect fit, hugging my figure and complimenting my hair, eyes and skin. It was lighter than air on me, making it so easy to move in. And I completely fell in love with it. I stared at myself for a long time, twirling several times and releasing my inner teenage girl. I pictured how Peter would react to change from hoodies and jeans to the petite dress. The mere thought made me blush.

"You okay in there?" Gwen said.

"Yeah." I said. I pulled back the curtain and awaited her reaction, suddenly feeling small and self conscious. Her mouth dropped open, but it then quickly turned into a beaming smile. She said nothing, for her face told me everything. It was a winner, only a winner that I would have to give a miss.

Gwen was infuriated.

"You have to buy it! You can't go to the dance without the dream dress. _That's _the dream dress!" she said, her voice whiny and annoyed and I placed the dress of the rack just inside the changing rooms.

"I'm not letting you spend fifty dollars on me!" I snapped.

"It doesn't hurt to let loose now and then, you know, trust me!"

"I'm not getting it, end of story!"

We went into many more shops, but nothing caught my eyes like that blue dress had. Gwen was annoyed, but mainly because I wasn't treating myself. Finally, she gave up and got bored, and so we made our way out for a coffee, Gwen ranting on and on as she did. However, I zoned out, for I suddenly felt uneasy. I felt as if I had a pair of eyes burning into me, and not the familiar feel of Peter's eyes. No, they felt familiar, and I felt sick to the stomach. I kept looking around uneasily, trying to spot whatever was bothering me, but nothing came to light.

It wasn't until I got home that I knew I had had every right to feel uneasy. Martha was staring at something on the counter, biting her nails with sickening fright and tears streaming down her face.

"What? What is it?" I demanded, rushing to her side. But she never told me, for I saw for myself. On the counter was a note, the writing rough and jagged.

_Time to pay up. _But it wasn't the letter that was frightening me.

It was the bullet sellotaped underneath it.

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**Boom! It's been a while since I've done a cliffy ;) Review!**


	28. Rage

**If you thought you knew Claudia at her most angry, think again ;) **

**Now, some of you want me to read you own stories, and I promise you I will, but it wont be until I finish this one. If I start reading other fanfics I'll lose focus on my own, and that would be a real pain in the backside when things are getting heated! But I promise I will read them once I've finished :)**

**Happy reading! **

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"Rick, you _bastard!_" I screeched down the phone, pacing the living room while Martha wept on the sofa. I had never been so infuriated in my whole life! I _knew _that Rick had something to do with the note. Whether it was him of his friends I wasn't sure, but I knew he was involved. And there was no way in _hell _I was letting him get away with it. Rick had pulled many strings and crossed many line, but _this _was beyond the line!

"What's the matter, Claudia?" his voice was low and mocking. I clenched my fist, so tightly that I tore through the flesh. Blood spilled over, warm in my palm. Rage enveloped me, pushing me over the edge. I wasn't sure how long I would be able to hold on before I lost my mind. I'd kill him, I swore I would! How _dare _he mock me! Did he think this was _funny? _I pictured myself holding a gun to his head, demanding if he found the situation funny in that circumstance.

"Oh, you think you're funny, do you? Well, I have a news flash for you!" I screamed. "When I'm holding a gun to your head, I'll demand if it's funny before I blow your brains out!"

"Is that a death threat?" his voice was twisted, too calm. Mockingly sweet.

"You don't know the meaning of a death threat! I won't just kill you, Hammond, but I will tear you to shreds, limb by limb, and _then _I'll turn your brain to mush!"

"Care to tell me what I've done?" he asked, his voice still unnervingly even. In the background, I could hear men laughing. It was all I could do to not lob the phone across the room. They were _laughing _at me! Those sick, twisted bastards were _laughing_ at me! Well, they didn't know much about me. They had caught me off guard that night, for I had been disorientated with fright, but now they were really starting to piss me off!

"Tell your friends that they need to watch their backs, Hammond. And I swear, if I hear from you or see you anywhere near Martha, I'll kill you!" and then I hung up, lobbing the phone at the wall and watching it shatter. While Martha cried her eyes out with fear I tried to control myself. My entire body was trembling, my hair in my fists. I think I was hyperventilating. All my happy emotions from the past few weeks vanished, and all that consumed me was firing rage that consumed my entire body. I sank to my knees and bowed my body as if I were praying, screaming into the floor.

I would protect Martha! I'd keep her safe, for after all the hell I had put her through, I owed her life itself. All I could think about was how to get rid of Rick once and for all. I needed to protect Martha, keep an eye out for Hammond, and I also needed to protect myself. I had known for long enough that he was going to make a move soon, but if he thought he could scare me out of my wits, he could think again! I had vowed to be ready for him, and I knew he would only wave off my threat.

I hoped he did, for then I could follow through with the 'tearing to shreds' business. There was no way Martha and I could live our lives in peace with him still lurking in the back of our minds, and I sure as hell wasn't about to let him get away with this stunt! He could get away with hitting me, he could get away with getting his mates to beat me almost to death, but he wasn't going to lay a hand on Martha. She was a whole other kettle of fish!

It occurred to me that we should go to the police. But I wasn't willing to leave the house. Besides, what were they going to do? If Rick had had any sense, he would have worn gloves when placing the bullet. I stumbled to my feet, locking the door and putting on the chain. Martha was cursing to herself, losing her mind with fright.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God!" she shrieked. "They really meant it! They're gonna kill us!"

"No they're not, not while I'm here." I told her through ragged breaths. "Unlike you, I'm not scared of him."

"No! I won't let you go up against him!" she shouted, rushing to her feet and grabbing me by my shoulders.

"He probably won't go through with it!" I shouted at her. "He's probably too much of a coward." It was a lie, we both knew it. Rick had taken to alcohol now, and even the men with the strongest willpower fell to the influence. Besides, he had his cronies, and I was pretty damn sure they wouldn't hesitate to pull a trigger on another human being.

And neither would I, not against them. I wanted revenge for what they did to me, I wanted payback for nearly battering my brains in. And I certainly wanted revenge on them for threatening my sister's life.

I didn't sleep that night, my heart never stopped pounding with rage. Martha fell asleep at around three in the morning, whereas I sat in the corner with my hair in my hands. I couldn't get control of my heavy breathing, and my body overheated with the hot fire of my rage. I'd kill him. I'd kill him! I went over all the scenarios of how we would meet. I'd be holding a gun out in front of me, I'd kick his face in, I'd conflict all the pain possible on him, just like he had on me.

Don't give if you can't take.

At dawn, I heard soft tapping coming from my bedroom. I closed my eyes, banging my head against the wall gently. I wasn't up to facing Peter, I didn't have the energy. I knew I would only end up lashing out at him, for I had bigger problems on my plate than improving our kissing sessions. But I also should have known better than to think he would go away and leave us be. I listened as the window in the other room slid up, and the soft thud as he climbed inside.

I stared at Martha, asleep in a ball on the floor a few feet away. The anger was wearing off now, and tears spilled over my eyes. What if I couldn't protect her? What if Rick got to her before I got to him? What if he put the bullet through her head himself? I wasn't sure I'd be able to live with that burden. I hadn't protected my parents, and that alone had nearly taken my life. Losing Martha would end everything. I wasn't ready to have my entire world ripped from under me.

I watched silently as Peter appeared in my doorway, his body stiff with awareness. His eyes landed on me on the floor, and then he looked at Martha. I simply stared at him and shook my head, wishing deeply that he would leave. I wasn't bothered if Martha woke up and saw him, I just didn't want him involved. However, like I expected, he rigidly walked towards me. He grasped my hands and pulled me to my feet, my legs stiff from being in the same position for over seven hours. As quietly as possible, he unlocked the door and slipped out with me, leaving it slightly ajar. My eyes never left Martha's form on the floor, for the moment looking to be content in her sleep.

"What happened?" Peter whispered, his voice frighteningly even. There was no point in hiding it from him. He already knew that something was wrong. He had told me about his sixth sense for danger, able to pick up on anything remotely out of place. He had told me how he had become Spiderman and explained his abilities, so I knew that I wasn't going to be able to keep quiet. When my safety was concerned, he was going to make it his business whether I liked it or not.

So I told him everything, from the note to the death threat I had screamed to the fright for Martha's safety. And I lost it. My knees buckled and I fell into him, my body trembling as I let out tearless sobs. He simply held me and stroked my head, and I was aware of how strong and agitated his body was. Every muscle was in knots with his silent fury, comforting and frightening me at the same time.

I should have been stronger. I should have been prepared for Rick's move, which I had been. I just hadn't been prepared for Martha. She had me tripping over my feet, had my mind in turmoil. I was terrified of failing her, and no amount of beatings could overrule that amount of pain and fear. A bullet between my eyes wouldn't scare me as much. I just... wanted to prove myself. I wanted to prove that I could pay Martha back for all I had done.

"Listen to me, everything is going to be fine, I promise." He whispered furiously. "I won't let anyone hurt you or Martha, I swear."

"I'll kill him, Peter, I swear I will." I choked, clinging to him.

"You won't, I can't have you going to prison on me." he said, only half joking.

"I can't fail her, Peter." I whispered, my voice broken. "I failed my parents, but I won't fail her." He shushed me again softly, roughly planting his lips to my head.

"Hammond won't get within a mile of either of you." he vowed. "Not him or his cronies." I clenched my eyes shut. It was a lie, and he didn't yet realise it. Because one way or another, they would get to us. I was going to be prepared, I just had to make sure I was in the right place at the right time. Dread flooded into me, for there was always going to be the 'What if?'.

"I should have said something earlier." He murmured, gritting his teeth. "The last week or so I've felt someone following us, or more so _you. _I didn't want to say anything in case it was me being paranoid." he sounded generally sorry, and I just couldn't get the willpower to be angry. "I didn't want to worry you in case it was nothing."

"It doesn't matter." I whispered. It didn't. Rick could follow me all he liked, so long as it kept him away from Martha. We stood in silence for a moment.

"Show me the note?" he asked gently. I nodded, slipping into the apartment and grabbing it from the counter. I went back to him and handed it over, and the blazing rage in his eyes made me take a step away from him. However, he hooked his elbow around my neck and pulled me back to him, kissing my temple. And then I heard the crinkling on the note. I glanced at his fist, watching as he crushed the metal bullet with next to no effort, and I swallowed in apprehension. This boy was capable of many things, that was for sure, and I knew he would easily destroy Rick. I wasn't about to let him make Rick suffer as little as possible.

"There's no way he's getting away with this." He snarled to himself. I looked up at him timidly, and his jaw was set. Images of himself as his alter ego had my heart racing, and not in a good way.

"I want to be the one to bring him down." I said. He locked eyes with me, instantly hating the idea. But I stared him down, determined to win the silent battle. He was not going to take that pleasure away from me. Rick had hurt me many times, had pushed me beyond the limit one too many times, and I hated him for all of those things among others. He was fake, dangerous, demanding, deceiving. It seemed only fair that I had the final showdown with him. Also, I wanted answers from him. I wanted to know why he was doing this to us. I wanted to know what his damn problem was and why he found it so necessary to actually threaten us. He had a motive, and I was determined to find out what that motive was.

Finally, to final a silent deal, I said, "He's mine."

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**Yay or nay? :D**


	29. Broken

**A lot of stuff comes to light in this chapter involving Claudia... enjoy! :D**

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Peter had left half an hour after he had come, worked up and beyond happy. I went back inside to Martha, falling beside her and curling into her body. She stirred slightly in her sleep, but her arm came over me and helped me snuggle into her, holding me tight around my waist. I placed my head on my arm and listened to her gentle breathing, assuring myself that she was fine for the moment. We used to fall asleep like this together all the time on the sofa, and we would wake up with a blanket over us thanks to mom. But I knew that no blanket was going to be placed over us, leaving us open to the cold. We were on our own.

I fitted in only a couple hours of sleep, nightmares rattling in my mind and my body aching with the hard floor. It was my alarm going off in the other room that woke us, alerting us that it was time to try and get on with the normal life. When I woke I was shivering, coiling into a ball to try and rebel against it. I realised that the window was still open from when Peter had arrived, explaining a lot. Martha moaned groggily, also shivering as she clambered to her feet. I watched her, feeling my heart sink to my toes.

She looked ill. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her skin unnaturally pale and her hair somehow lifeless. And she looked so weak. She was no longer the strongest of the two of us, and that fact was extremely daunting. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if holding herself together. I puffed out a sigh of sadness and pity.

"It's going to be okay." I murmured. She offered a weak smile, stumbling to her room and clicking the door shut. I closed my eyes, sitting up stiffly and brushing my hair from my face. Everything had been almost perfect until last night, and I could feel our world slowly falling apart yet again. Martha was just inches from shattering, and it was going to take all I had to hold her together. But I refused to let myself break. I had been down that road, and that was one trip through Hell I was determined to not repeat.

I pulled my knees to my chest and stared ahead blankly. Martha reappeared a few minutes later, wearing her waitress nametag and furiously rubbing her eyes. I watched in shock as she forced on layers of makeup, determined to get on with her day as normal.

"You can't be serious." I said, disgusted.

"I'm not missing work because of that bastard." Her voice was thick as she tried to hold herself in check. "He just thinks he's funny, that's all."

"When was anything that easy?" I snapped.

"Look, we can't just sit around here and mope." She snarled, glaring at me. I flinched, cringing away from her on the floor. Her eyes bulged and she sighed heavily. "I'm sorry." She whispered.

"I deserve worse." I murmured. She said nothing, for we both knew it was true. She finished off her makeup and pulled her hair up into a tight bun, her eyes frighteningly empty. I watched as she grabbed her bag from the counter and made her way towards the door.

"Get ready for school." She said flatly. And then she left.

I wasn't going to school, no way. I had other things on my agenda, so a day of boring classes could wait. I dashed to my room and peeled out of my old clothes and pulled on some fresh ones. I pulled on some black skinny jeans and pulled my black hoody over my head, leaving the hood up. I yanked on my running shoes and snagged my keys from my bedside.

Once I got outside, I was met by pouring rain and I tugged my hood to help shield my face. And then I ran for it. I shoved through the people on their way to school and work, I raced across the busy roads and nearly got killed in the process. But I didn't care. I ran through many streets, pausing now and then to try and make sense of my surroundings. I needed to remember where I had been on the night of the attack, find the right alley way where I had found and followed Rick. I needed to find that warehouse!

I couldn't care less that people were yelling at me, staring at me. I fled through the rain, my chest burning with pain and my muscles begging for a break. But I wasn't going to take a break, not until I figured out when Rick was now taking refuge. And I _would _find it. Martha was already losing her mind, so I mentally had a countdown going on through my head. I was going to make the next move, not Rick. _Me. _

I searched through my memory, trying to pluck out some key features. For the moment all I could remember was dark alleys, smashing bottles and wrenching as Rick threw up. Power walking past each alley within walking distance of my home, I searched deeper into my mind. I tried many different pathways, always coming to dead ends. But then I remembered a key feature, the one that would help give me an idea on where to go. I had passed the back of a kitchen, a kitchen attached to a restaurant. Bingo!

Half an hour after leaving the house, I finally felt familiarity sink in, gazing at the door behind a local restaurant. Slowly I let images flood back to me, and with a great amount of patience, I gradually made the path I had made over a week ago. Unease took over me when I walked down the final alley, just a turning away from the warehouse. I could picture myself on the ground, four men towering over me and they beat me to a pulp. I could hear my faint cries. I could hear the slams as they smashed my back against the wall. I could hear Gwen's life saving threat for distraction. And I remembered Peter's promising arrival. All of it happened in this alley.

As I gazed around, seeing the place in daylight, I saw a back pool of dried liquid on the ground, shining below the layer of rain. My hand went to my cheek and I shivered, hearing the blow in my ears. How had he not _crushed _my cheek? Shaking my head I regained focus, and I gingerly poked my head around the corner. I squinted through the rain, and I was pretty sure it was abandoned. And then I looked up to my right, slowly grinning.

I clambered onto the fire escape and climbed up, this building long and wide and towering over the warehouse below. At the top I kept a low profile, scanning the area around me to make sure I was alone. As I searched high and low, my eyes landed on a large rock close to the door that led into the building, and I picked it up without hesitation. And then I moved to the perimeter, looking down on the roof of the warehouse. Biting my lips, I raised my arm with the rock. And then, with all my strength, I lobbed it down onto the roof, welcomed by a huge crash in its wake.

_Clatter, crash, bang! _

I shrunk out of sight, moving along to peer at the entrance. In an instant the door flung open, and two men rushed out into the rain in response to the crashing. They wore hoods, making it difficult to see their faces. _Dammit! _

"What the hell was that?" one of them shouted over the pouring rain.

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" the other responded, and both voices sound distinctly familiar.

"_Let's show her what we're made of." _That sentence rang through my mind, chilling me to the bone when realised it belonged to the first man's voice. But that was soon replaced with hot rage. I ground my teeth, fighting every urge inside of me to not go after him and get away from my safety zone up here. Yes, this was definitely the place. These guys were throwing their weight around, and there was no way I would be able to go up against them on my own. Rick was the one I wanted, though.

"What's going on? What was that?" _this _voice really did snap a nerve. I watched as Rick came into view, waving a bottle of pure vodka around and stumbling around like a drunk. Grinding my teeth I kept back a shriek of rage, biting my tongue hard enough to draw blood and keep myself quiet. My nails dug into the concrete floor below me, effectively breaking them. After pointless looks around, the three men finally gave up and let the noise slide.

"What if it was the Thatcher girl?" the first guy said. Rick laughed, generally amused.

"Jacky boy, she's not going to remember where this place is, not after the way you took care of her." He laughed. I bit my lip, holding back my own laughter. He really did know how to underestimate me. The two men laughed with him.

"She was just as weak as the first time, just like her folks were! She practically _let _me shoot them buggers!"

My heart stopped. My breath hitched. My grin vanished.

They laughed and joked, vanishing back inside the warehouse, leaving me paralyzed with shock and numbness. No, no, it couldn't be true. It _couldn't _be! I would have known, I would have known! Panic overtook me, panic and agony. No, no, no! It just couldn't be true! It just couldn't be! I felt my mind crumble, and I suddenly felt like the girl on the night of the murders. Weak, useless, pathetic. I was now on a fine line, stuck between going insane with grief and agony.

I had no idea how, but I ended up at school, floating through the corridors like a ghost, and how I got there was completely blank. They were empty, for everyone would be in their first class, but I was sure that if they were swarming with people I wouldn't have noticed. I felt my heart tearing apart in my chest, the lump in the back of my throat unbearably painful. I wondered why I had come to the school. But when the bell shrilled, and students flooded out of the class rooms, my question was answered. When Peter came into view, I stumbled towards him. Gwen was beside him, and I watched horror cross both of their faces. Finally, I collapsed, both of them softening my fall.

When I came around, the first thing I thought about was the weight of my stomach. I opened my eyes, frowning, and I realised I was in my room on my bed. Looking down, I saw that Peter had his head on my stomach, his face in my direction and his eyes were closed. He had a chair pulled up beside my bed, one that normally lived in Martha's room at her dressing table. For a moment I felt content, but the reality of my situation came crashing down on me within seconds.

Rick was the reason why my parents were dead. He set the whole thing up.

I wept then, my body jerking with my uncontrollable sobs. Peter bolted up right, startled, but he quickly came to his senses. I pulled my knees to my chest and sobbed into my pillow, and I could feel myself shattering. Peter climbed onto the bed, the mattress sinking under him, and he lay beside me and wrapped me in his arms. He kissed my shoulder, neck and hair, whispering words of comfort which were easily drowned by my sobs. I rolled in his hold, tucking my face in his chest in the attempt to hide from all of my troubles. He repeatedly kissed my head, never letting me go, and I thought I could feel his heart breaking with mine.

Finally, I calmed down. Small sniffles escaped me now and then, and Peter just simply held me in silence. I didn't think I could get any closer to him. Our legs were tangled together, his arms around my waist while mind were locked around his neck. His lips were on my forehead, and I noticed how harsh his breaths were. He was falling apart because I was.

"What... What time... is it?" I stuttered.

"Just gone one in the afternoon." He said stiffly. More silence followed. My body trembled, and his hold on me tightened at all angles like a snake tightening around its kill. He was so possessive, determined to hold me together, even if he didn't know what happened.

"He killed them." I choked. He stiffened, his heartbeat accelerating.

"What?" he asked, his voice broken.

"Rick killed them." I felt more tears coming, and just as they rolled down my cheeks, Peter caught my lips in his.

"He'll get what he deserves." He snarled, burying his face in my throat. I choked on another sob, blinking against my streaming tears. I could have handled with Rick's violence, his threats, even putting Martha's life on the line, but not this. He was the reason my whole life was torn apart. He was the reason I turned on Martha in the first place. He was the reason I wanted to kill myself. It was all him! I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

"He'll pay for it." Peter vowed against my skin. "I promise."

With a shaky, broken sight, I kissed his neck. "And we'll... do it... together."

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**Review!**


	30. Taken

**Things are about to get personal, beware!**

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Gwen Stacy was worried sick. She sat in her class chewing at her nails, impatiently tapping her foot on the ground. She had never seen Claudia look so ill and distraught, and when she had collapsed into both herself and Peter, nothing but panic took over ever since. She had watched Peter scoop her into her arms and carried her from the building, insisting on Gwen stopping behind. Claudia's body had seemed so flimsy and broken, her limbs dead weight. Students had moved in Peter's wake, gawking with worried eyes. It was not the last lesson of the day, and she had heard nothing on Claudia's condition.

What had happened to her friend? Claudia was a tough girl, determined to stay strong, but whatever had happened today had her crumbling into dust. Gwen had never felt so sick. Claudia was a part of her life, and after the death of her father, she had come to appreciate those who entered and stayed in her life. And Claudia meant so much to Gwen that she couldn't describe it in words. But when she had seen the horror on her friend's face, all Gwen wanted to do was protect her from what had rocked her boat.

Gwen stared at the clock at the front of the class, biting her lip during the final minute of the lesson. As soon as she got out of this damn class, she was going to ring Peter and give him an ear full. Why hadn't he gotten in touch? Why hadn't he rang to tell her is Claudia was okay? She couldn't help but feel frustrated, for she got the impression that he thought only he cared about Claudia. With that frustration came a pang of jealousy, but that would be selfish of her. It was Claudia that mattered, not her feelings that still lingered for Peter. He had his eyes on Claudia now, and she had to deal with it maturely.

Peter and Gwen had had a shot at a relationship, but the death of father was always going to stand in between them. And, just after the events of the lizard, he had already begun to drift away from her and towards Claudia. She'd be lying if she hadn't noticed his deep gazes towards the hooded girl, the way he started to walk towards her and then stop himself, how he always commented on wanting to help her. Gwen had known about his feelings for her before he himself had, making it all the more painful to watch. But she was stronger than to hold a grudge against the girl, for she had no idea about the effects she had on others. She had drawn Peter in without trying, she had drawn Gwen in from admiration, and little did she know, pretty much everyone in the school sent their hearts out to her.

Finally, the bell shrilled, and Gwen fled from the classroom. She dug her phone from her pocket, searching for Peter in her contacts. Once she found it, she punched the call button harder than she needed.

"Gwen, sup gal?" he said causally down the phone, picking up after three rings. Gwen rolled her eyes out of habit.

"How is she? Why haven't you called me? What the _hell _happened?" she spoke too fast, fleeting out of the building and barging through her fellow students, her hair getting soaked with the rain. She listened to his long, heavy sigh, all jokes now aside.

"She's in hell, Gwen." He said, his tone taking an edge. "Turns out Rick is behind the murders."

"_Excuse me? We have to call the police!" _she shrieked, horrified.

"It's her word against his, there's nothing to do without evidence." He sounded just as frustrated as she now felt. Her friend, the one of few people she cared about, had been living under the roof of a murderer, and better yet, the murderer of her parents! Rage enveloped her inside and out, and she found herself purposely shoving people out of her way and earning glances of shock. She didn't care.

"Are you still there?" she asked.

"Yeah, she's asleep now."

"I'm coming over." Before he could reply she hung up, furiously shoving her phone back into her pocket. Wrapping her arms around herself, she marched in the direction of Claudia's apartment, a good twenty minutes from here. She didn't care. She needed to see Claudia and comfort her, make her feel safe. She refused to let her believe only Peter could protect her.

Gwen had heard many stories about Rick. He had been engaged to Claudia's sister, and he was a man of violence. She remembered when Peter had turned up on her doorstep after his first encounter with the man, and it took a good hour to calm him down and not rush back to Claudia's apartment. Claudia had practically threw him out of the apartment, determined to face off the man by herself. It gave Gwen chills to think that Claudia and Martha had lived with that man, unknown to them what he had done.

She needed to get to Claudia, now! She needed to simply wrap her arms around the small girl and comfort her. She needed to _be there _for her! She found herself running, mindlessly dashing across busy roads and barely able to make sense of where she was. Her heart felt heavy in her chest, aching with a tonne of sympathy. And then anger. Oh, so much anger! How dare that man rip apart her life, and then carry on living with the daughters without a care! She had never been so sickened in her entire life!

However, when she was speed walking past the park she and Claudia had hung out at not so long ago, she was completely unaware of the very man who sickened her was watching her. Following her. Hunting her. Rick Hammond had been waiting anxiously for the girl to immerge from the school. He had been so delighted to discover that she was completely alone, no fancy man or his girl there with her. It was his first step closer to tormenting his precious girl. First, he had to deal with the blonde. Dangle her from a string and tease his girl with it as if she were a cat. Oh, it was going to be so much fun!

Sending the note had had his girl fired up. If only he had been there in person, for he would have loved to have seen her at her angriest. He could picture it so easily. Her hands pulling at her hair, her exhausted face completely flushed with rage, her teeth biting down on her lip to hold back her scream of rage. It would have been so comical to see. She was so easy to anger, for her anger was her weakness.

The blonde was slowing, catching her breath. Amazingly, no one was around, for everyone had fled home to get out of the pouring rain. The poor blonde was all alone, with no witnesses, and the whole thing was just getting too easy. Rick drained the remainder of his drink, the alcohol burning the back of his throat. God he loved alcohol. It was the solution to all of his problems. He could let himself go, and all his passionate anger for Martha and Claudia was numbed, enabling him better control. Smirking, he made his move, falling into step with the blonde about a meter behind her. The rain silenced his steps, making him feel all the more grateful.

The blonde never saw him com for her. He lunged for her, snagging her body from behind and clamping his hand over her mouth. It stifled a scream, but it didn't stop her thrashing. Growling, he scooped her up and carried her to Jacky's car around the bend, opening the trunk and shoving her inside. He'd tie her up later, once he had the help of his men. For now, he just needed to get out of here.

Gwen's screams were drowned out by the screeching of the tires on the road.

"Peter?" I whispered, opening my eyes. He was by my side instantly, sitting on my bed beside me and taking my hand.

"Hey." He murmured, leaning down and kissing my head. "Gwen's coming over, I hope you don't mind." He offered a goofy smile. "She didn't give me time to argue."

"It's okay, I want to see her anyway." I mumbled, sitting up. He scooped me up slightly, moving underneath me and placing me on his lap. He planted kisses on my neck, his hair tickling my cheek, and I warmed into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around me. I was glad for the distraction, his kisses soothing but searing hot at the same time, for I wasn't ready to lose my mind just yet. He kissed my cheek several times before placing his chin on my shoulder, playing with my fingers.

"What time does Martha get back?" he asked softly.

"Seven I think." I murmured.

"Okay. Are you going to tell her?"

"I don't think I can. She's already losing her mind because of that damn note." I snarled. "I knew that Rick was many things, but this... this..."

"Shh, shh, it's okay." He whispered.

"It's not okay, Peter! That bastard killed my parents! And he's threatening my sister's life!" my voice broke. Peter didn't flinch from my outburst, only tucked my head under his chin and held me tight. I was grateful. I hated yelling at him, especially when he was only trying to help. "I'm sorry." I whispered.

"It's okay, you can claw my throat out right now and I'd still want you." he said, sending my heart into flutters.

But things weren't okay half an hour later. Gwen hadn't made an appearance, and both of us were getting worried. It was chucking it down outside, the world was going dark, and this was New York for crying out loud! It should have taken her less than twenty minutes to get here! Half an hour passed, then forty minutes, and then Peter got his phone out. He rang once, twice, three times, and then we both began to go into controlled panic.

And then someone answered. The moment Peter's face screwed up in rage, I snatched the phone from him.

"Gwen?"

"Claudia..." Rick purred, and his voice was slurred. Drunk. Drunk and dangerous.

"Where's Gwen?" I shouted, full on panicking now. Peter had his hands in his hair, breathing hard.

"Where's Gwen, you ask? We're just getting acquainted." He snickered.

"Hammond, if you touch one hair on her head, one _single _blonde strand-"

"You'll do what?" he mocked. I ground my teeth, my heart pounding with fright and rage. Gwen, he had Gwen! It occurred to me that maybe he was messing with us, maybe he had her phone but not her...

"Claudia! Peter!" I heard her shriek, her voice distant. And then I heard a blow and a scream. Then sobbing.

"No! Don't hurt her!" I screamed. Peter snatched the phone from me, and I fell to the floor in tears. Oh god, oh god, oh god!

"_Where is she?" _He bellowed, his voice seemingly shaking the room. A moment later, he lobbed the phone across my room. I shrank into a ball on the ground, sobbing, repeating Gwen's name. She shouldn't be involved in this, she shouldn't! She should be either here or at home, somewhere safe! She wasn't strong enough against him, against any of them! Not alone! She didn't even know Rick! Oh god, this was all my fault! I was vaguely aware of Peter, repeating that we would find her, that it would all be okay.

"_No, Peter, no!_ This is why I never got close to people! This is why I wanted people _out _of my screwed up life! Do you know why_, do you know why_? It's because anyone who gets mixed up in a screw up's life will get _hurt!_" I screamed, unable to control myself. He reached for me, dumbstruck, but I flinched away.

"Claudia..." tears welled up in his eyes, his eyes angry and terrified.

"No, don't! When we get Gwen back, and we _will, _do me a favour." I watched him, my body trembling, my breathing heavy. "I want you _both _to leave me alone and never speak to me again!"

With that, I pushed up my window, leapt onto the fire escape and worked my way down. I knew where she was, and Rick was going to pay.

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**Ouch... You now what to do!**


	31. Standoff

**Warning, this one is very violent! Thanks again for all of your support, I wouldn't have gotten this far without it! So, for now, enjoy the violence!**

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We landed on the roof of the warehouse with a thud, purposely loud. Peter had stripped from his clothes and was now in his suit and mask, and he had snagged me in his grasp without asking. I had shrieked in protest, but he simply held onto me and swung us in the direction of the warehouse, horribly quiet. There was no thrill in the ride now, for both of us were worried sick and angry at the same time. Somehow, regret managed to merge with my raging emotions, regret to saying those words. But it was for the best, for they should never have gotten mixed up with me in the first place. No, the kindest thing I could do for them was let go.

There was a window in the roof at the furthest side of the warehouse. Silently we opened it, peering down. Voices and sobs echoed up to us, and it was all I could do to not just fling myself down there. Peter grabbed my arm, spinning me to face him. I grit my teeth, hating his touch all of a sudden. I hated how he still treated me without hesitation, but I could tell he was struggling to keep himself in check. Without a word he fired a web into my chest, and a small _oof _fell from my lips. Gently, he lowered be down through the window, releasing my arm and gradually letting the vine lower me. I swallowed, overtaken with nerves.

The warehouse was dark, very dark, the only light coming from the far side where the door was. The place was massive! You could fit three of my apartments in here! Quietly, my feet hit the ground, and I looked up to see Peter crawl inside and disappear into the shadows. I swallowed, edging towards the other side. I could make out Gwen, tied to a chair, looking to be out cold. My heart was in my mouth, and all I wanted to do was go and check her over. But Rick was in my sights, his back to me. All the men had their back to me, facing the door.

"She'll be here soon." Rick said confidently, his voice even more slurred than what it had been on the phone. I froze, straining to listen.

"How'd you know she knows where we are?" one of his men questioned.

"She's been here. Recently." He said firmly. _How could he have known? _How was that possible? I hadn't been seen this morning, I had been so sure! But dark humour took over me, for they honestly thought I was going to enter through the front door. What idiots! Sneaking forward, I lunged for Gwen, ducking behind her chair. Her hands were tied behind her back, her ankles locked to the legs of the chair. Her chin was touching her chest, a blindfold covering her eyes along with a gag in her mouth. She was out cold, most definitely. Quickly, I fumbled with her binds.

They were creative, I'd give them that! They hadn't tied her down with rope or any kind of fabrics, but barbwires. I tried to focus, burying down the deep desire to abandon Gwen and attack Rick full pelt. Just to get my nails clawing at his face was more than a satisfying thought. But I ground my teeth and did all I could to release Gwen, taking five minutes to undo each bind.

"Shouldn't she be here by now?" one of the men sighed, frustrated. I smirked. _Thick jerk. _

"She'll _be _here." Rick snarled, swaying drunkenly. Finally, Gwen was free, and I caught her body as it flopped from the chair. In an instant, Peter appeared and took her in his arms, the girl dead weight in his hold. He slung her over his shoulder, disappearing back into the shadows on the wall. Once I was sure that they were out of sight, I decided to get the show started. Sitting on the chair, I crossed my legs and folded my arms, forcing a cocky smirk on my face.

"Sup, bitches?" I said, surprised by the strength of my voice. All four men swung around, gawping in disbelief. "Nice place you have here." I said casually, looking around.

"What the fu-"

"Where's the girl?" Rick bellowed. He came at me full bore, and I took the opportunity to snag one of the wires, holding it in front of me as I stood on the chair.

"Ah, ah, we wouldn't want to have an accident, now would we?" I said sweetly, purposely looking from the wire in my hands to his throat. He swallowed, seeing my intention, but his eyes were all fox.

"You're all talk and no action." He sneered.

"Try me." I challenged, tightening my grip on the wire. I glanced at the men behind him, now looking unsure of themselves. I nodded my chin towards them. "Care to introduce me? They forget to give me their names when they were beating the crap out of me."

Rick smiled, the gesture lazy. "They're none of your concern." He told me. I ground my teeth, watching him and his every movement. I wished he would step closer, just in reach, so I could strangle the life out of him. It took all I had to not jump on him there and then, his throat exposed, standing just a few feet from me. I wanted him dead, here and now. I wanted the man who ruined my life and Martha's gone from the world, and I wanted him gone by my hand. But first, I needed answers.

"What was it like?" I asked the men behind him. They stared at me, dumbstruck. "What was it like to kill two innocent people in front of their daughter? What was it like to leave me there in their blood? Did you go home thinking that it was just a day's work?" none of them answered, and I didn't expect them to. I turned to Rick, who was smiling wickedly. "And you. How did it feel to screw my sister and know what you set up? How does it feel to know that she now hates your guts? How does it feel to know that we want you _dead?" _

He merely laughed, a chilling sound. "Sweetheart, you're sister meant nothing to me. I was in it for the money." He said calmly, as if this was a normal conversation. "Martha was perfect, she had all the looks, and she comes from a family with the dosh. All I needed was to get rid of the folks, they'd hand down the money to her, and all would be perfect." He then screwed up his face, his eyes racing over me. "I never anticipated that _you _would survive, though. Oh, don't cry, darling, it was nothing personal. You were just a pain in my ass! You ruined everything! If not for you, I'd be in riches with a beautiful wife by now!"

"How_ dare_ you!" I shrieked. "You're twisted! You're insane! You sick, twisted _bastard!" _and I really did go for him then, shrieking as I propelled myself from the chair and onto him. We hit the ground with a thud, and I desperately tried to line the wire up to his throat. I couldn't think, couldn't feel. I was just so blinded, so desperate to get revenge on him. However, he was much stronger than me, and soon enough he was pinning me to the ground, straddling me. I whimpered, trying to fight him.

"Your anger was always your weakness." He purred, lowering his mouth to my ear.

"_Get off of her, you bastard!" _came the roaring voice of Peter, and out of nowhere his feet collided with Rick's chest, sending him flying. I lay there, dazed, unseeing. I heard punches being thrown and received, bodies slamming against the wall. In seconds, I scrambled to my feet, intending to lunge for Rick once again. Peter had him pinned to the ground now, throwing punches at any and every angle. I went for him, but then I felt my feet lift from the ground. I screamed, and I saw one of the men run towards Peter with a metal pole.

"Look out!" I hollered. Peter retaliated before the blow could come down on him. But I was already being taken from the equation. They were distracting him!

"Let me go!" I bellowed, fighting with all my might. Two men had my legs and arms, carrying me from the warehouse and being unfazed by my struggling. "No! No!"

"Claudia!" Peter cried, but I was already out of the door.

"Keep him busy!" Rick shouted, stumbling out of the building. I drop to the ground, the two men rushing back inside and grabbing metal poles from just inside the door. The door slammed shut, and I heard the clicking of a lock.

"No!"

"Shut up, you little bitch!" Rick rammed his foot into my stomach, and I effectively coiled into a ball, gasping for air. He grabbed my hair in his fist, slamming his fist into my face. Blood splattered from my lips, tasting sour in my mouth. I whimpered, and everything felt oh so real now. I gripped his hand, yelping in pain from all of his inflictions. Unable to fight, he dragged me towards a silver car, pushing open the boot. I resisted, hating the whimpers of fright falling from my mouth. I used my feet to keep away from it, but he was so strong.

"I was going to have some fun with you, but you've done my head in." He snarled. "Looks like me and Martha will be having a date alone."

"Leave her alone! Don't you dare touch her!" not Martha, oh please, not Martha!

"You're pathetic!" he laughed. "Man up!" finally, he shoved me inside, and I tried to reach out. He slammed the hood of the trunk down, plunging me into darkness. Oh, I was going to scream the damn place down! I screamed, I kicked, I punched, and pounded my body everywhere. Everywhere hurt, but I was in no position to care. He was going after Martha, and I wasn't prepared to let him! Her face floated into the darkness, so sweet, so lovely, do vulnerable. No, no, no! I couldn't let him hurt her, not Martha!

He drove for a while, the engine loud and deafening my screams. I didn't give up. I _wouldn't _give up! So I continued to fight was I knew was going to be useless. But I long last the car stopped, and the trunk reopened.

My foot slammed into his face, and he bellowed a curse. Blood pooled from his nose, dipping in and over his lips and falling onto his tattered shirt. I had no idea where we were, but before I could register it, Rick was pounding punching into me. Blood pooled into my eyes, blinding me, but I fought him nonetheless. We ended up on the ground, lashing for one another's throats, desperate to kill the other. I fought like I had never fought before, biting his hands, scratching his face, trying to aim for between his legs, but he was always going to overpower me.

After what seemed to be an eternity of fighting, my body gave up. Out of breath, body screaming in agony, I fell to the ground limply. I felt the life draining from me, and I knew that if I didn't get medical help, I was probably a goner. But I just couldn't fight anymore. But I knew I was still strong enough, once I got my strength back, but he was just so much stronger and lethal. He rammed his foot one final time into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me, and my body finally had had enough and I sagged.

The ground was cold. All I could taste was blood. My body twitched with the agony I was experiencing. Fire. Fire everywhere. I _wanted _to die then, just to escape the pain. I choked into the ground, blood splattering to the concrete and back into my face. I heard Rick's cackle, but he sounded far away.

"Martha..." I whispered.

"What?" he chuckled. I looked up with my eyes, seeing double. His voice sounded more like an echo. Before I passed out, the last thing I was aware of was him spitting at the ground by my head. And then the pain swallowed me up.

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Rick walked away with a smirk on his face. He had won, he had finally won! She was going to be dead by morning. Every punch and every kick had been everything he had wanted, and her whimpers had been incredible to listen to. Defeat. The all mighty Claudia, who never lost, was now laying in the gutter in the rougher side of the neighbourhood, bloodied up and looking to be beyond repair. Her time was over.

It was a shame the blonde had got away. He could have had so much fun with her as a decoy. But now Claudia was dying in the gutter, things couldn't have worked out more perfectly. His boys would have had the sense to flee the bug by now. The bug would be too busy trying to find Claudia. All had worked out perfectly, so very perfectly!

Martha, oh sweet, wonderful Martha. It was time for her comeuppance. She had lived the perfect life, had the perfect family, had all the money, it was time to show her the reality of her world. Not many people knew about their split, so when she died, all the money would go to him, and he would finally be able to pay off his boys for killing the folks.

He rubbed his hand up his face and into his hair, feeling the hot moisture that was his blood. She could fight, that was for sure. Climbing into his car, he looked in the mirror. Claudia looked deathly still, limbs stretched out, no sign of movement. Smiling wickedly, he drove away.

She was done for.

Next up, Martha Thatcher.

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**The cliffy had to be done! Review!**


	32. Claudia

**It's a long one you guys! And again, thank you so much for your support! I love you all for it, from all you reviewers to everyone favoring and following the story! **

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Martha got inside the apartment and tossed her keys on the counter. She felt exasperated, for work had been the last place she wanted to be. She would have much rather stayed with Claudia, for she knew she would have taken the day off school happily. But Martha had needed to distract herself, and being with her sister would have done anything but. She was so frightened for herself and her little sister, the only family she had, and the one being she was determined to take care of and give an easy life. But life was working against them both.

Claudia had always been her baby sister, she always would be. Even in her lapse into depression, when she had thrown all of her anger and guilt directly at her, Martha stilled loved her with everything she had. She hadn't been the best guardian in the past few months, always shouting at her. She hadn't had the strength to be the sister she once was, for all her love was stripped with the loss of their parents. Rejection towards her sister was the affect their deaths had on her, and she hated herself for it every day. But in the last few weeks, Claudia had changed. She got that shine back in her eyes, her stunning smile made a regular appearance, and her posture looked far more relaxed. Martha was finally seeing the baby sister she once knew, and with that she too was able to recover.

That was why she refused to let Rick Hammond get under her skin. She needed to be strong for Claudia, prove that she was capable of protecting her. She would beat this fear growing inside of her, especially with the note, and she was going to keep her baby sister safe. Martha owed Claudia for all the times Rick had hit her, for she had never stopped it. She owed her the love she needed, the protection she craved, and the passion of sisterhood. Martha could offer her so much, and once they finally moved on from the tragedy of their lives and the threat that was Rick, Martha would use the money Mark and Ashley had left for them and buy a new apartment and pay off Claudia's education, along with giving her good birthdays and Christmas's. It was her job to give Claudia a life now.

Martha immediately frowned as she closed the door behind her. It was coming up for seven o'clock, and all the lights were off. Claudia would have left a note to say if she was out, but there was nothing. Besides, she was sure that Claudia had absolutely no intention of going out. Flicking on the lights, Martha scanned the room, and her frown deepened. She had expected to see her sister on the sofa watching TV, awaiting her arrival. The sofa remained empty.

"Claudia?" she called into the too silent apartment. In reply, she got the whistle of the wind coming through a window. Claudia's bedroom door was slightly ajar, swaying ever so slightly with the wind from outside. Her heart was suddenly in her mouth. Claudia _never _left her door open, or her window. The weight of the apartment's atmosphere suddenly grew heavy, crushing down on Martha and flattening her with nerves.

Something was wrong, very wrong.

She edged her way inside the apartment, stepping very carefully. She tried to make as little sound as possible, but she wasn't sure why. Her breath came out slow but heavy, her eyes darting here and there and everywhere. She tried to spot anything that was out of place in the living room, seeing nothing. It was Claudia's room that was wrong. Reluctantly, she walked towards it, taking cautious steps. She outstretched her arm, her palm on the door. Ever so slowly she pushed it open and looked inside.

Empty. Her arms fell to her sides and she let out a puff of air, striding inside and forcefully shutting the window. She rubbed her bare arms, shivering with the chill in the room. Maybe Claudia had one on her. Maybe she went out last minute to get some air. Maybe she was on the roof, for that had once been a favoured spot of hers. Claudia would be absolutely fine, for she had always been a tough cookie. When she would get back, however, Martha would give her an ear full.

Exiting her sister's room, Martha gently clicked the door shut and set about getting something to eat. That girl should have known better than to leave without notice! Martha had enough to worry about than thinking what her rebellious sister would be doing out on the streets! She wished deeply that Claudia would be the naive girl she once was, for that way she would be much safer. But no, she was the complete opposite now. Always getting into trouble. Martha was frightened that maybe she was having a relapse, what with everything that had happened over the last week or so. She wouldn't have blamed her, for Martha herself felt herself beginning to fall.

It nagged Martha so much as to why her sister had changed so much in the last month or so. It had been ever since that Peter Parker boy had brought her home, passed out in his arms, claiming he found her on the fire escape. Her cheeks had been damp with tears, her skin abnormally pale. In that moment Martha had panicked, taking her sister from the boy and cradling her limp, exhausted body. The boy had insisted that she was okay, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He had helped her take Claudia to her room, both placing her gently on the bed. Martha had offered him some coffee or tea as a thank you, which he had accepted.

The way that he had looked at her sister gave Martha a strange sensation. His eyes had been so set on her, full of determination. It made Martha feel something she thought she'd never feel again. Hope. No one had ever tried to help Claudia, not before or after Martha gave up. She had been left to fend for herself, until this boy came along with a stubborn look about him. She hadn't seen him since, but in his absence Claudia began to thrive. Martha had convinced herself that he was still involved in her life, hidden away in Claudia's mind. If that were the case, she didn't mind, for Claudia was slowly but surely becoming herself again, only stronger and braver.

And Gwen Stacy, she was certainly a big part of Claudia's life now. Those two just simply clicked, and watching them had never been so satisfying. Martha had listened to their phone calls a couple of times, listening to Claudia's teasing and her gentle laughs at the responses. It was amazing what just two people could do to even the most damaged of being. They had fixed someone who had seemed beyond repair, thus unknowingly fixing Martha, too.

And now they were both falling apart again.

Martha began to worry after half an hour of no Claudia. It was dark, wet and there were many people who could hurt a teenage girl. Claudia was only small, claiming to be all rough and tough. She had been proved wrong once, she could be proved wrong again. She found herself pacing the kitchen, waiting anxiously by the door and awaiting her sister's inexcusable lateness. With each passing five minutes, her heart began to pick up its pace, her body trembling with nerves. She would go out and search for that girl if she had to, and then give her a throttling once they got home. She would no doubt scream at her, demanding what she was playing at, and then...

"She's not coming back." Martha screamed, whirling round to the low, intimidating voice behind her. A man, taller a bulky, stood just outside of Claudia's room, gazing at her in amusement. He wore a white hoody and baggy black jeans, his hands comfortably in his pockets. He stood somewhat lazily, although his face told her that he had been anything but not long ago. His left cheek was bruised heavily, his bottom lip cut open, blood staining his blonde hairline. His right eye was black and swollen, and he seemed to have put up a fight of his life.

At Martha's scream he lunged forward, grabbing her from behind and clamping his hand over her mouth. Her entire body retaliated, bucking and thrashing with all her might. If there was one thing the Thatcher had been known for was that they could put up one hell of a fight. And boy did Martha fight! She clawed at his hand covering her mouth, moving it and sinking her teeth into his flesh. He released her, and she lunged for the drawers in the kitchen, pulling out a knife.

"_Stay back!_" she rasped, but her voice was broken with fright. Her body was fighting, but it didn't kill of her terror. Hot, blinding terror.

"You should watch more horror movies, darling. Everyone knows that the bad guy hides in the closet." The man smirked, clenching his hand and stepping towards her. She waved the knife back and forth in front of her.

"Stay back!" she hissed again, backing away. The man now grinned, crouching slightly, poised like a tiger. Martha began to sob, tears blurring her vision.

"That brat of a sister you have is lying dead in the gutter. Hammond made sure of it." he snarled, a chuckle rumbling in the back of his throat.

"No... You're... Lying." Martha sobbed, her voice catching. No, not Claudia, she wasn't dead. She _couldn't _be dead. Not her sister! She was all she had left!

"No I'm not, sweetheart. She came to find us, and she was far from pleasant. Tried to strangle Hammond with a piece of barbwire. Had to be taken care of, unfortunately." He grinned, all malice. "Hammond said she put up one hell of a fight. Came back with scratches all over his face and he even has a limp. But she's dead alright. And now you have a date with Hammond himself."

With that he lunged, punching the knife from Martha's shuddering hand and propelling into her. She shrieked, the two of them tumbling over the back of the sofa and crashing to the ground. Her limbs thrashed defensively, moving herself across the carpet. He snagged her ankles, and instinctively she grabbed the mat on the ground to try and steady herself. He was so strong, dragging her easily. The table that the TV was on toppled when the carpet was pulled from under it, the TV smashing to the ground.

"Hello? What's going on in there?" someone was pounding on the door, one of the neighbours. In an instant, all fell silent, for the man was crushing Martha's voice box, now straddling her. She rasped, trying to cry out, but it was no use. Her arm reached towards the door, as if she could somehow will it to open.

"I don't want to have to kill you, Thatcher, but at the moment you're making it very tempting." The man above her snarled in her ear, applying just enough pressure to keep her silent, but not strangle her. Her hand went to his face, straining she push him away. But her vision turned fuzzy, her mind hazy. There was only one thing that was in repetition in her head.

Claudia was dead. Her baby sister was dead in the gutter, out in the rain, chilling by the hour. Martha was all alone, and she saw no sense in living anymore. Let this man kill her. Let him reunite her with her family. Let his block the air from reaching her lungs.

She had failed Claudia. She had failed her, and now she was dead. Dead like her parents. They were _all _dead!

No, she wouldn't give up, not just yet. She would first avenge her sister. She would face the man who killed her. She would kill _him _herself.

"O... o... ka... kay." She rasped. "St... st... op."

"Good girl." He spoke in a hushed voice. He released her throat, and she choked into the floor. Her throat burned horrifically, her temples ringing. Not missing a beat, the man snagged her hair, yanking her to her feet. He had the knife in his hand, holding it to her throat. She whimpered, fighting the blinding urge to try and call out to the man on the other side of the door. But instead, she let the man lead her to her worst nightmare.

She was doing it for Claudia.

* * *

"Where is she? Where's Claudia?" Gwen was shouting, pacing the roof of a building, hands in her hair. Her head was pounding from the blow she had received, but that was the least of her worries. She swayed, her head fuzzy and her vision blurred. And Peter was there, all in his Spiderman suit apart from his mask, bowed to the ground in defeat. "Why didn't you go after her?"

"I tried, Gwen! I tried! She was gone before I could grasp what was happening!" grief was all over his face, and he had never felt like such a failure. Claudia was gone. He had no idea where she was. His Claudia was no longer under his protection. He had saved Gwen, but now Claudia was probably dead. Oh god, just that thought alone made his heart rip. He had gotten out of that warehouse as fast as possible, taking Gwen far away and trying to locate any sign of Hammond or Claudia. Nothing.

"She couldn't go up against that man alone!" Gwen screamed.

"I know!" he shouted back, exasperated. Tears blurred both of their visions, both on the verge of going over the edge. The pain they both felt was horrific. They had both made it their job to protect Claudia, and now she was out there, alone, possibly dead. They both failed her!

"We have to find her!"

"She could be anywhere, Gwen!"

"Then we find the bastard who started all this!" Gwen hardly ever swore, but she was now hysteric. Peter glared at her through tears.

"You are _not _going up against him, not again!"

"Why not?" she shrieked. "He's probably killed my best friend!" _Best friend. _She had never referred to that before.

"It's not just you he's affected, Gwen!" he bellowed, jumping to his feet. Both stared hard at one another, breathing hard, tears streaming down their cheeks. After a harsh few seconds, Gwen collapsed, wailing with grief. Peter quickly followed. The rain fell down on them, louder than ever.

_Claudia, Claudia, Claudia... _

"What about Martha?" Peter hollered, suddenly horrified. Gwen looked up at him, weeping loudly. She watched as he clambered to his feet, confusion replacing her grief for a moment. Martha was still out there. She was also a key to this whole situation. And, Peter was certain, that she would want him to save her before herself. Alive or dead, she would want Martha to be safe. As much as it pained him, as much as it broke his heart, he needed to let Claudia go, just for the moment, and find Martha. He needed to find her and keep her safe. Or, if Hammond already had her, needed to rescue her and finish Hammond once and for all. It would be what Claudia wanted.

"What are you-" she began, watching as he pulled on his mask.

"I failed her parents, and I failed her, but I am _not _failing her sister!" he shouted, releasing a vine of web into the distance as he did.

"I'm coming with you!" Gwen shrieked, jumping to her feet and running over to him. She wanted to do something, _anything, _that might save the memory of the Thatcher family. She refused to believe that Claudia was dead. The thought was there, but she didn't yet believe it. Claudia was a fighter, always had been. Whatever Rick had done to her, she would be fighting. And when she came back, she would still have a sister to come home to.

"The hell you are!" he snapped.

"Please, Peter." She begged, clinging to his arm. He stared at her through the mask, seeing her need to help. She wouldn't give up, no matter what he said. If he took her himself or not, she would still wind up there. He watched her blink through the rain, her tears blending into it. "I love her too, Peter. Not in the same way, but I do. Let me help. If she is alive, and I believe she is, let me make sure she has a sister to some home to."

_Love. _That was a big word. A word he could no longer deny. He didn't _want _to deny it. Forcefully, he told himself that she was still alive. And when he had her back in his arms, he would tell her how he felt. He wanted the two of them to have a status. And he owed Gwen as much as to do something good for the girl he loved.

Without a word, he took Gwen from around the waist, the two of them flying into the pouring darkness.

* * *

**You know what to do!**


	33. Martha

**We're getting close to the end you guys! Just a few more chapters left! :'( But, it's all kicking off! So, enjoy this next chapter and let me know what you lovely people think! As I constantly say, thank you and I love you all! **

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Turns out that the man who had kidnapped Martha was a man called Jacky, Rick's right hand man. Martha knew that he was a very dangerous man, and she was numbly stunned to know that he was under Rick's orders, not the other way around. She had been taken to an old warehouse, a rusty old building that looked ready to collapse, but Martha had nothing left in her to fear it. All she felt was anger, pure and hot and feeling like nothing she had ever felt before. She hated Rick more than she ever thought she could. She hated him enough to kill him. She _would _kill him! Claudia hadn't gotten that far, so Martha would finish everything for her sister, even if it meant getting herself killed in the aftermath.

When she entered the building, looking like a blonde drowned rat, she grit her teeth. Rick was pacing the inside of the massive building, two other men keeping far away from him. Martha was quickly aware of how Jacky hadn't exaggerated Rick's condition after his brawl with her sister. He was indeed limping ever so slightly, his old shirt was torn, and his face looked like it had been mauled by a bear. But, of course, she felt no sympathy for the man she once loved. Actually, she wished he was suffering more than he probably was. Jacky held onto her by her arm, pinning her to the spot. Rick turned to their entrance, grinning as he did. Martha shoved out of Jacky's hold.

"Is it true?" Martha snarled, sounding unrecognisable even to even herself. He barked out a laugh.

"Sure is, beautiful." He chuckled. "Precious Claudia is back with mommy and daddy."

"You're lying." She clung to that statement, trying to force herself to believe it. But, deep down, she had lost all hope. Deep down, she believed that her baby sister wasn't coming home. And Martha knew now that she wasn't going home, either.

"Afraid not." Rick said, serious now. "She asked for it."

"_Take that back!_" her entire body rocked with her outburst, her voice echoing throughout the building. The men around her moved ever so slightly, ready to close in on her, but Rick held up a confident hand.

"Enough about her. Do you know why all of this happened, darling?" he asked her, his voice somehow seductive. He came closer to her, and Martha found herself unwilling to move. She wanted him near, so that she in turn could also try and tear his face off. Despite the tears streaming down her face, she felt nothing but fury flowing through her veins. She clenched her hands into fists by her sides when he stopped, just mere inches keeping them apart. With a bloody hand he stroked her cheek, and in turn she rammed her fist into his face.

"God dammit!" he shouting, holding his hand to his face. Martha was breathing heavily, ignoring the searing pain in her knuckles. Within seconds she had her arms behind her back, Jacky holding her back against his body. She didn't see the point in squirming. Instead she held her head high to Rick, nonchalantly gathering a large amount of saliva in her mouth. Rick simply smiled at her, tutting as he did. He touched her face again, leaving his blood smeared on her creamy skin. Martha simply yanked her head away.

"This all happened because of your pathetic little family. The oh so perfect Thatcher family, the ones with all the riches. Daddy was the surgeon, mommy was the journalist, and they both had two beautiful daughters. But people like you forget about people like us. Me? I lived my childhood getting beaten by my mom. My dad was never around. We have barely enough money to get in the groceries. While you lived in the perfect house on the outskirts of New York with the massive garden, I lived in a crappy apartment of the rougher side of town. But you wouldn't know what that was like, would you?"

Martha stayed silent and unmoving throughout his speech, listening to the dangerous tightening of his voice.

"I remember first going to that grand house of yours. I remembered your parents disapproving looks of me. I had heard your dad refer to us as _Lady And The Tramp _at some point. So stuck up, they were, acting like they were higher than everyone else. And then there was Claudia. Oh so sweet Claudia, what with her glossy hair and princess like face, much like you. I hated how she dressed like a tart, going out with friends and not appreciating what she had. The look after mommy and daddy died was much better."

He chuckled when Martha tried to lunge for him, wincing when Jacky's arm went to her throat and tightened there. How dare he! How could he just stand there and insult her dead family as if it were _normal? _He was insane! The way he spoke, the way he moved, he was a very messed up man. How she hadn't seen it was beyond her. He was a man with bad history, a man with a troubled mind and thought that the only answer to everything was violence. He needed to be in a mental hospital!

"But for a brief time, I considered myself a lucky man." He continued. "Beautiful girlfriend, entering a family of wealth. But a better idea occurred to me. I could make you my wife, and should the _terrible _event of your parents' deaths occur, then they would hand down the money to us. We could have a happily ever after. Have children, move out to the country, spend our money on what our hearts desired. You could get a successful job, like me, and all would be perfect." The gleam in his eyes made her blood run cold.

"_No._" She hissed, lunging against, followed by a yelp. He couldn't have, there was no way...

"Yes." Rick cackled, clapping his hands to applaud himself. "See these men here? I hired them to assassinate Mark and Ashley." Martha wailed, but he continued without a pause. "It was so damn _easy. _There was a fourth man, but he got caught for theft. Never mind. The job got done. They watched your family for a month, learning their schedule, plotting their approach. But not all went to plan. See, I had only offered them a sum of _two _people, not three. When I said I wanted them to take down the Thatcher's, they thought I meant just Mark and Ashley."

He shot his men a glare, and they all looked ashamed. Rick turned back to Martha, who had her head bowed as she sobbed with shaking shoulders. How could he? How could he do that to them? Her mind was in turmoil, and she was unable to focus.

"Unfortunately, Claudia was indeed there, and my boys were unwilling to shoot her without that extra cash. But I considered that perhaps she would be good, be the start to our little happy family. But _no! _She instead decided to be a little _brat, _start ruining our home and lifestyle, and thus breaking us up!" he was angry now, so very angry. Forcefully, he took Martha's face in his hands, staring into her watery orbs. "We could have been so perfect together." he whispered. "But instead she tore us apart. She turned you against me, and for that she ruined everything. But not many people know we broke up, so therefore, when you die, all your money shall be mine. I'll be able to pay off these boys here, get myself a girl, and live the life of luxury like you once did."

Finally, Martha released her salvia into his face. "Rot. In. Hell!"

In response, Jacky threw her to the ground, and in an instant Rick was on top her of, straddling her. Martha screamed through his hand, sobbing at the same time, desperately trying to fight him. His breath was head on her face, the smell of alcohol swirling around her nostrils.

"Don't piss me off, Martha." He snarled. Grabbing her hair, he clambered off of her and yanked her to her feet. She thrashed and bucked, digging her nails into his hands. She was aware of the other men laughing at her useless attempts, and she found herself crushed against the wall. Rick stood behind her, pinning her there with his body and breathing down her neck.

"How does it feel, huh? How does it feel to lose _everything?" _he taunted, laughing lowly. She whimpered, panting with terror. "You lost mom and dad, you lost Claudia, you lost all of you happiness. I think that I'm doing the right thing for you. Put you out of your misery."

"Do it then." She snarled. "I dare you." he spun her, pushing himself against her and touching at several bases down her body. Martha felt violated by his closeness, ready to throw up in his face. She looked into his blood face, deep into his greedy eyes. She watched them darken, saw his mouth hold a twisted smile. His hands snaked to her neck, gently wrapping around it. She clenched her eyes shut, waiting for the agony of her windpipe closing.

_Clang. _Everyone froze, the air fell silent. Martha heart was pounding in her ears, loud and deafening. _Clang. _What was that? It sounded like a rock clattering against the metal walls of the warehouse. Small, typical rocks. The sounds came from the other side of the warehouse, down in the shadows. _Clang! _

Rick cursed. "What _now?_" he yelled, clearly frustrated. Martha held her breath, hoping against hope that the tables were about to be turned. Everyone looked towards the shadowy part of the building, seeing nothing, getting sucked into the silence. They strained to hear any other sound, right down to trying to hear a breath or a heartbeat.

"Oh, dammit!" one of Rick's men doubled over, clamping his hands over the back of his head. In that moment, Rick's body loosened against Martha, and she wasting no time in ramming her knee in between his legs. He groaned, falling to a lump on the ground. She ran for the door, only to be snagged in Jacky's arm. She slashed at his face, no longer holding back. She then found herself not running for the door, but for the metal poles that resonated beside it. She grabbed one the size of a golf club, holding it like a bat.

Rick was on his feet again, and everyone seemed to forget about the noise and attack that had distracted them. All we focussed on Martha, hunched and holding the pole in an aggressive manner. Her eyes darted between all four of them, eyeing them up. They rested on Rick, who seemed to be debated with himself to run for her or not.

"Come on, Rick, kill me! I dare you! Not backing out of a dare, are you?" she shouted. She watched the anger flood into his face, saw how his hands clenched. She was not unnerved, but motivated. Motivated to avenge her family. That was all she could focus on. "_Come on!" _

_Clang! Crash! Bang! _They all jumped.

"Johnny?" one of the men called, and it soon became apparent that the man who had suffered a blow to the head was missing. They heard shuffling ahead, and Martha's heart was in her throat. What was happening?

"Show yourself!" Rick bellowed.

"Howdy, partner!" came a cry, and suddenly a figure swung through the shadows and into the light, crashing into Rick and propelling him to the ground. Jacky and the other man were also on the ground in seconds, effectively tangled in webs and shouting in protests. But not Rick. That man never gave up! In her disorientation, Martha had dropped the pole and was left weaponless, and Rick took full advantage. He lunged for her, and with a slight struggle had her from behind, one arm around her neck and the other clenching her head. Martha clawed at his arm, whimpering.

"You dared me, sweetheart." He growled in her ear. On the ground before them, none other than Spiderman was on all fours and looking up, abnormally frozen. Martha stared at him desperately through her tears, reaching for him. Rick simply laughed at him.

"Don't make a move, mate. One move and I snap her neck."

"Don't do it, man." The man in the mask warned, his voice deadly.

"Or you'll do what?" Rick retorted, laughing madly. He seemed barely aware of his men tangled in webs, their mouths bound by the stuff and offering mumbled yells on the side of the building. Martha felt the rigidness of his arms, felt the twitching of his muscles. Any minute now, he would snap her neck, and all would finally be over. A part of her longed for that moment.

Behind them, the door opened, a cool draft falling into the building. Rick didn't move, sick of surprises. However, he went rigid when he heard a small click. The man in the mask lifted his head ever so slightly, and ahead a blonde girl who Martha recognised as Gwen came into the open. Her mouth was agape with shock and terror.

"Let her go, or I put a bullet through your head." A voice behind them said, a broken, rough voice that was still fighting. Rick went deathly still, and he turned his head. Martha's heart began to beat erratically with joy, so much joy that it burned her entire body.

In the doorway, Claudia Thatcher stood with her arms in front of her, holding a gun in both of her hands. The barrel pointed to Rick's head, and all she had to do was pull the trigger. Her entire body trembled with pain, and she seemed barely able to stand. The only steady part of her was her arms. Blood coated her face, but behind it was a smile of triumph as she met Rick's eye.

"Find it funny now?" when she saw Rick swallow, she smiled wickedly.

* * *

**SHE'S BACK!**


	34. It Ends Tonight

**The moment you have all been waiting for. What else is there to say but enjoy!**

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No words can describe the pain I was in. My body felt ready to crumble, my legs barely keeping me up. It took all I had not to scream with the agony. My face was heavy and on fire, warm with blood. My blood. The only part of me that wasn't killing me were my arms, and the one thing that kept me going being the gun in my hands. And standing here, the barrel of the gun to the back of his head, I hadn't ever felt so in control. I had him where I wanted him. I had the upper hand. And I was going to use that to my full advantage.

How I got the gun was a slight blur. I was barely aware of how I had gotten to the apartment. I had been lying in that alley, giving up, thinking about my entire life up until that moment. The rain falling down on me, my blood staining the ground, listening to Rick's car vanish into the darkness. I had reached the point of begging for death, unable to take any more emotional and physical pain. That agony devoured me, eating at me from the inside out, and my mind had drifted to my suicide attempt. I remembered the freedom in the few seconds that I fell, awaiting to be released. And, lying there, I had never been so glad to have been saved. Saved from myself. From the moment I landed in that web, my life was changed once again.

I had forced myself to my feet, collapsed several times before my legs were able to take my weight. I'd stood leaning against the wall, waiting for my knees to stop wobbling like jelly and strengthen up. I was fed up of giving up, being a quitter. It was time to toughen, now and forever. I forced myself to think of mom and dad, knowing that if they were there they would have been urging me to not give up. I thought of Martha who needed me the most. I thought of Peter and Gwen, the two people who I would forever look out for, even though I wanted them out of my life. I thought of how I needed to take Rick down. I thought of how I needed to prove to the world that I was _not _a quitter!

With great determination, I was staggering out of the alley and stumbling to god knows where. It occurred to me that Rick was one hell of a dumbass, for he had dumped me only two blocks away from my apartment. He had gotten cocky, believing he had finished me. He should have known better than to think that was it. While walking, it took great effort to just not collapse again. So I focussed on my goals. Get to Martha. Protect her with my life. Get rid of Rick once and for all. I repeated them over and over again, for they were the motivation I needed.

At long, excruciating last, I was at building. I vaguely remembered digging into my pocket, foraging for my keys that I was aware enough to remember. It took me a minute or two to get the key in the lock, for my hand wouldn't keep still. Finally, my body fell on the door and I fell through, collapsing onto my knees while the door clattered against the wall. My eyes scanned the room, and my heart had sunk. The place looked like a bomb site. The TV was smashed on the floor, the carpet ruffled, the sofa cushions all over the place. A knife was on the ground. Thank god it was clean of blood.

I crawled further into the apartment, wheezing as I stifled my agonized screams. I moved into the living room, gathering an image of the fighting that would have taken place. I was immensely glad that Martha hadn't gone down without a fight, just like I hadn't. And I refused to let myself believe that she was gone forever. Looking around, I had felt nothing but emotional heartache. Our home, a world of nightmares. A place where we would never escape the traumas of our lives. A place of pain, anger, grief, violence. It would always be that kind of place. Always.

Then, peeking out from under the ruffled carpets, I saw it. The peculiar pattern of the floorboards. The way they weren't in sync with the other boards. With bloody hands, I weakly pushed back the carpet, gasping slightly as I did. Clear as day under my hands was a door in the floor, a hole available to lift the boards up. I did just that, and there, black and dangerous in the hole, was a .22 gun. With little hesitation I pulled it out, holding it up in examination. And that was when I made my mind up.

It ended tonight.

So here I was, a weak mess, ending the game. I couldn't deny the amount of pleasure I had in seeing the fright on his face. I had listened to everything he had said to Martha, explaining his spite towards us. I couldn't help but think of how pathetic he was. When Martha dared him to kill her, I was going to make my move, but someone beat me to the punch. I had listened to the yells of confusion and the clanging noises, and I knew who was stealing my light. And I had never felt so much respect for them. Of course Peter and Gwen would go after Rick. They also wouldn't go down without a fight. But the moment Rick threatened to snap my sister's neck, the waiting was over.

"It ends tonight, Hammond." I said, my voice strong, sounding nothing like how I felt. There was no trace of pain in it, and I was forever grateful.

"Claudia." Martha croaked, struggling in Rick's grip. I yarned for her, wanted to end her terror, but I needed to take it slow. I didn't want to lose my cool when I was so high up.

"You're supposed to me dead." Rick snarled viciously, unconsciously tightening his grip on her. I remained calm, ignoring the screaming in my mind. I watched how Peter and Gwen flinched in reaction, itching to run at him and rescue Martha from his grasp. They held themselves in check, for I was the one with the gun, not them.

"You should know better than to underestimate me." I said simply. "Let her go, Rick."

"Since when did I listen to you?" he snarled.

"Since I held a gun in your direction." I was losing patience now. "Let go." Martha whimpered, gasping for air as she did.

"Do as she says, man." Peter said carefully, his voice muffled behind the mask. He gently lifted a hand towards him from the ground, beckoning to hand Martha over. Gwen was cautiously moving forward, barely noticeable. I met her gaze for a moment, emotion filling the back of my throat. The last I had seen her, she had been tied to a chair and was unconscious. But she too was a fighter. Everyone in this place was.

"Money isn't everything, you know." I said, dragging my eyes away. "Money can't buy you happiness."

"Shut the hell up!" he bellowed. I didn't.

"What's killing us going to do? We'll haunt you forever, Rick. Maybe not for the first few months, maybe years, but the dead always come and bite you in the ass. It won't be long until our parents begin to haunt your dreams." I said steadily, keeping an eye on his body language. He didn't loosen up, but he also didn't tighten. He was actually listening to me. "Don't make me do it. As much as I hate you, I know that you will only come back and haunt _me. _Do the right thing for both of us. Just let her go."

"You two were always the unappreciative ones. You always had the money, the style, the easy life. You are both selfish, just like Mark and Ashley. You will never understand what life was like for me. People like you shouldn't walk the earth!" his voice was thick, with both alcohol and emotion. I stepped closer, the barrel of the gun now against his scalp. He flinched, but again did not loosen or tighten his grip.

"What does that make you now? A man lusting for money, ready to kill people just because they had one life and you had another. How is that right? You're a hypocrite, Rick. Selfishness works both ways."

"Shut up!" he bellowed, his voice bouncing from the walls.

"Rick Hammond, you are under arrest!" came a booming, familiar voice outside the building. All of us froze, and I stole a glance to Gwen. A phone was in her hand, and I could see the numbers _911 _on her screen. "We have the area surrounded! Come out with your hands above your head!"

A moment of silence. "It's over." I murmured, and, a long last, he pushed Martha away from him and into Peter's arms. But that wasn't the end of it. In a flash he spun around, jumping at me in a moment of confusion. We toppled to the ground, him reaching desperately for the gun while I screamed in agony.

The gun fired.

"_Claudia!_" Martha shrieked, but it wasn't me who got the bullet. I looked up, stunned, as Rick's eyes bulged out at me in silence torture. His hand went to the right of his abdomen, and when he pulled it away it was glossy red. He gawped at me, confusion in his eyes before his face shrivelled up in agony.

In that same moment, officers came flooding into the building, taking Rick away from me and pushing him onto his back, shouting "Call an ambulance!"

And then Martha was there, pulling me up into a sitting position and holding me close, sobbing into my hair. I heard nothing, saw nothing, only clung to my sister and ignoring the agony of my body. The detective who I remembered as Detective Jones was there, draping a blanket over us and helping us to our feet. I looked back for a moment, seeing that Peter and Gwen were gone. Once outside, I was blinded by flashing lights of police cars and an ambulance, and Jones hurried us into the back of an ambulance. I collapsed before I got inside.

When I came around, I blinked furiously against the white light of the room. A room I was familiar to. A hospital room. It took me a moment to come to my senses, and when I did, I groaned with the ache of my body. I glanced around, seeing that it was a private room. And I slightly panicked, for I could not see Martha anywhere. For a moment, I thought that the whole event with Rick was a dream, and that I had been found in the alley and not the warehouse.

"Claudia?" a groggy voice said at the bottom of my bed, and I tried to fight off the throb in my heart. Peter lifted his head, which had been lying on my mattress, his face a mask of concern. He scooted his chair up to my head, clasping my hand.

"Peter." I whispered, looking at him through lazy eyes. He squeezed my hand, forcing a smile. Oh, why was he hear? Had he not taken my order seriously? I needed him and Gwen as far away from me as possible! But then again, I needed to know if the earlier events were a dream.

"Martha?"

"She's fine, she went to get something to eat." He assured me.

"Rick?"

"Alive." His face screwed up at that. "We won't be seeing him again, though."

That was enough for me. For a moment I was quiet, fighting the urge to pull the tubes from my face. I could feel the fabric of bandages all over my body, somehow supporting me. My head was fuzzy, but I knew that that was because I the medication I was probably on. I did all I could to distract myself, desperately trying to avoid Peter's eyes and ignore his scorching touch. But, finally, I turned to him.

"Why are you here?" I whispered. He met my gaze, and I knew that he had been hoping against hope that I wouldn't ask that question. He sighed heavily, lowering his head slightly.

"I can't keep away from you." he said roughly.

"You have to." I said boldly, ignoring how my heart jumped in rejection.

"I _won't._" He met my eyes again, and they had never looked so intense. I shook my head at him, willing the tears to keep away. Why did he have to be so _stubborn? _So heartbreakingly stubborn!

"You have to stay away from me, Peter, you and Gwen." I said, swallowing.

"Is that what you really want?"

_No. _"Yes." He shook his head now, smiling despite the tears in his eyes.

"Don't lie, Claudia, it doesn't suit you."

"Peter, _please, _just make this easier for both of us!" I snapped, begging for him to leave and stay at the same time.

"I promised myself that I would leave when you wanted me to, but I know you don't, so therefore I'm not leaving." He lightly touched my cheek, and I just couldn't find the willpower to flinch away from it. "I'm especially not leaving someone I love."

_No. No, no, no! _Tears streamed down my face. Peter was never supposed to come into my life, so he was especially never meant to fall in love with me! No, this couldn't be happening! It just couldn't be! And then I had to do one of the hardest things I had ever had to do. Swallowing, making my face blank of any emotion, I proved that I _could _lie, there and then in that moment.

"I don't love you. I never have." I watched how he absorbed my words, letting them sink in. For a moment I thought he was going to call me a liar again, but then I saw what I was dreading. Hurt. Undeniable hurt. It was so clear in his face, tattooing itself in his eyes, and tears fell over his eyes. He stood without a word, refusing to look at me, and then left. My heart had been torn up many times, but that had been from things _done _to me. But, this time, it was I who had broken my heart.

It was always me.

* * *

**Sorry guys! **


	35. Assignment

_English Assignment: _

_The Demons Of Love_

_Love is the source of our inner demons. Whether it be love for our families, friends or partners, love is what brings out the bad in us just as much as it brings out the good. I should know. _

_The world of love is never perfect. There is no such thing as boy meets girl and then all is happy and wonderful. If that is the case for some, then they have no idea what reality is. Romance takes time and effort, and it is about knowing who you are committing to. Charming words and a bouquet of flowers is only seen in movies. _

_But it is love that is our downfall, and not just romantically. When you commit yourself to someone, you don't think about the agony that may occur when that person is taken away from you. I experienced that kind of pain, and I tried to take my own life because of it. I lost my parents, and I'd done nothing to help them. The love I had felt towards them had been stronger than my love for life itself, so when they died, my world died too. And it was because of love that my inner demons lurked to the surface. With love comes hate. Powerful, undying hate. That is what balances life. But it is getting the right balance that you have to work at. _

_I couldn't control my hate. I turned on people instead, because it was love that had destroyed me. I didn't know what else to do. I fell into the darkness, drowning, up until the point I couldn't breathe anymore. _

_But there was someone who didn't let me fall. _

_They say that opposites attract. I'm beginning to think that it's true. I became a completely different person, a stranger to myself, and then a boy entered my life. We had some stuff in common: we were stubborn, determined and we had bad histories. But, unlike him, I wanted nothing to do with him. He was too happy for my liking, always keeping his head high. It infuriated me. He was the bright light on the horizon whereas I was the darkness in the abyss. _

_He was a parasite under my skin. He wouldn't let me go, forever determined to help me out of my depression. And, dare I say it, he did. Frustratingly so. He helped me remember who I used to be, and that I could still be that girl only stronger and wiser. He made me see the light again. But it wasn't just him. _

_A girl, his best friend, also forced her way into my life. Again, she was so much more different than me. She laughed and smiled constantly, loved to shop, always wanted to help people. She even looked completely different to me. Blonde hair, grey eyes, light makeup on her face. Everything about her was bright and happy. I liked to call her Blondie and Barbie. But we did have something in common, the same as what me and the boy had. She had a dark past. _

_I came to love them both, but in different ways. I loved the girl as if she were my sister. I loved the boy as if he were my soul mate. _

_If not for them, I wouldn't have rekindled my relationship with my sister. We had been at odds for six months, mainly because of me. But thanks to them, I was stronger enough to open up to her. And the more I opened, the more we could start living again. _

_I had refused to love again after mom and dad died. I thought that the human race were horrible, full of destruction and forever being the nightmares in our sleep. I still think that. However, rather recently, I realised why I had given up on love. I was afraid to love again for I was terrified of the thought of losing people. The only way to demolish that fear was to hate. _

_So I let them go, for I wasn't prepared to lose them. _

_No one ever thinks of the aftermath love leaves. They feel that they don't have to. But they haven't gone through what I've been through. I know the pros and cons of love. The pros are that it keep you on your own two feet, giving you a reason to live. The cons is that it can completely destroy you. _

_I admire anyone who has the strength to commit to someone. I just hope they know that one day, they will have to suffer for their happiness. _

_Written by Claudia Thatcher. _

**_Grade: A+_**


	36. Epilogue

**It's time to say goodbye to Miss Thatcher! :'(**

* * *

Six weeks ago, I was lying in the hospital feeling sorry for myself. Peter and Gwen never visited. I should have been glad. But instead, my heart screamed for them, for Peter's kiss and Gwen's laugh. I wanted them like I never wanted anyone. The only thing that kept me going was Martha, who slept in my private room and comforted me day in and day out. She barely left my side, and I was so glad she didn't for I was afraid I was going to lose my mind.

I got released about ten days after I wound up there, broken and tender, but making a great recovery. The nurses had said I didn't have to go home if I didn't feel right, but I insisted on getting out of there. So Martha signed the released papers and she took me home, calling for a cab. She had come to the apartment when I had slept, and when I got in the place was less of a bomb site. I was frightened because I was so sure that I would never escape the nightmares, but Martha assured me that she was looking for a new apartment.

And, two weeks after I returned home, we were moving to an eight story apartment building. We moved closer to my school, just a five minute walk away, and Martha got a new job at another cafe with better pay, but she was also starting to train to be a teacher. The apartment itself was much more homely and on the top floor. The walls were painted brown with cream skirting boards, the floor coated in a cream coloured carpet. It was a three bedroom apartment, and we were using the third room as a small office.

My room was completely different to my old room. It was big and open, the far wall made up of a window and looking over into the city. The walls were painted baby blue, the floor being wooden in a light coloured wood. I put pictures of myself and my family. The photo of us on the beach had been blown up into a medium sized canvas, something Martha had gotten me for my birthday a few days before moving. That now lived up above my bed.

Martha and I got on much better. We talked about mom and dad constantly, reminding ourselves of all the good times we'd had. We went shopping a lot and shared a lot of days out, and for once it felt right. She had gone over her side of the story when she had been kidnapped, and I had never been so proud of her. She told me how she now understood how I felt, and I her, and I knew now that nothing could separate us ever again.

I also gave up the hoody look. I opted for my old fashion style, which was back to skirts, dresses and simple t-shirts. If I was going to move on, I needed to ditch _everything _from the last eight months. But, just because I changed my fashion style doesn't mean I changed my personality. I was still untrustingly, still suffering from nightmares every night, still heartbroken. Only now I had better control over it.

And then, three days after moving in and getting settled, I faced the hardest task of my life. I went back to school. It didn't matter that it was only a month until the end of term, I needed to show my face. I had gotten Martha to send in my assignment, and that had been the only thing I had done associated with school. So, I faced my fears and went back, hoping against hope that I could make it through the day. I did make it.

Walking through the corridors with a slightly bruised face, everyone stared. They stared at my clothes, my injuries, my slight smile. Some took a double take. Others stopped and said hello to me. Many parted to let me past, murmuring to one another. I didn't feel annoyed or self conscious or even angry. I just felt like I was home. And then I bumped into Charlotte and Jason, the rough and tough love birds who had cornered me a couple months ago.

"Watch it!" Charlotte snapped. I laughed at her, especially when she realised who had bumped into her.

"My bad." I said. Jason moved toward me, gritting his teeth but unable to keep the surprise from his face. I lifted my shoulder and spread my arms in an 'I dunno' look. "She should have watched where she was walking." And with that I walked around him, continuing down the corridor towards my locker. I heard Charlotte huff, making me smirk to myself.

My smirk vanished in an instant.

Peter was staring at me from his locker, and it was the first I had seen of him for nearly four weeks. Gwen was there, too, and I felt my blood run cold. I quickly shoved my bag in my locker and hurried off to my class, feeling their eyes burn into my back. That was the first and last I saw of them for the rest of the day.

I was glad to get home, to my _new _home, and find Martha hanging up more photos.

"How was school?" she asked, turning to me. I shrugged.

"Fine." and then I helped her continue to make the place our own.

It continued like that for the next four weeks. I went to school, growing more and more confident but continuously avoiding Peter and Gwen. I would constantly feel Peter's gaze on me in the classes we shared, hot and sour, and the hours there were excruciating. It hurt to think that he probably hated me, hated seeing the act I was pulling. The new clothes, the open attitude. I hated to think that he thought I was completely _happy. _If he only knew.

I was miserable without him. Gwen too. I desperately tried to deny that I needed them. I longed for his lips on mine, hot and urgent, his scent clogging my thoughts. I wanted his body against my, his hands in my hair. I wanted our passion, our ridiculous, amazing passion. And I wanted to hear Gwen's laugh, call her Blondie or Barbie, and act like she was the most annoying friend I had. There had been many times when I had stared at the phone, battling with myself as to whether call one of them or not. But I knew there would be no point. I would only hurt myself and them. Besides, they hated me now. And so they should.

It was a Wednesday night, Martha's night off, and we were sitting on the sofa watching _New Girl _on our TV. It was when the commercials came on that there was a knock at the door, soft and tender on the wood.

"I'll get it." I murmured to Martha. She nodded, standing and trotting off to the bathroom. I couldn't help but smile. As far as home life went, we were both content. Walking towards the door, I looked through the peep hole.

My heart went to my toes.

May Parker stood on the other side, looking fragile and unsure of herself out in the hall. How on earth was she here? How did she know where I lived? I couldn't grasp the situation, and without thinking I pulled open the door, gawping at the small woman in front of me. She smiled, but her eyes were sad.

"May?" I said, swallowing nervously.

"Hello dear." She said.

"Not to be rude, but, how did you know where-"

"Forgive me, sweetie, but I called your sister earlier today." She smiled sheepishly. "Peter still has your number."

"Oh." It was a dumb thing to say, but what else could I do? Without hesitation, she reached forward and took my hand in both of hers, looking at me sincerely.

"Perhaps it's none of my business, but I have to know... why won't you speak to Peter?" she asked, her voice somewhat desperate. "I've never seen him so... glum. He's so quiet at home, rarely smiles anymore. Gwen has come around many times, but she can't seem to cheer him up. Actually, she seems miserable, too. Please, I have to know. Did they do something to upset you?"

Normally, I would have completely diverted the question and slammed the door in their face. But this was May Parker! Sweet, widowed May Parker. I could never slam the door in her face. I respected her far too much. With a shaky sigh, I answered her question as softly as possible, keeping the ache at bay in my voice.

"They did nothing wrong." I murmured. "Actually, they did everything _right. _They're to amazing people, May, and they shouldn't be getting mixed up with me and my personal life. I'm sorry."

"They miss you so much." She whispered, squeezing my hand. "Peter especially. And I know you miss them, too. I see it in your eyes."

"I just... want to protect them." I choked. She shook her head at me.

"You're a good person, Claudia, inside and out. Just because many bad things have happened to you, it doesn't mean it'll pass on to others. Look at you! New home, new look, new everything. And things are only going to get better. That horrible man is locked up and will never been seen again. So there's just one thing missing." She spoke so proudly, like a mother to her child. My heart warmed with the thought. "A girl like you, Claudia, deserves happiness."

"I don't think I-" I began, but she held up and finger and cut me off.

"Think about it. I mean it. Really _think. _I want you to be happy just as much as I want my nephew happy." She reached up and hugged me, planting a kiss on my cheek. I stood frozen, awed by her words, her embrace. And then she left, squeezing my hand as if to say "Make the right choice."

I closed the door numbly.

"Who was it?" Martha asked, a towel in her hands as she dried them. I offered a small smile and walked back to the sofa.

"Just an old friend." I murmured. She shrugged it off, but the look in her eyes told me she knew who had dropped by.

The next morning, I had a package. Martha brought it up from the lobby, frowning as she did. The item was in a box, wrapped in ocean blue paper with a pink ribbon tied around it. I gawped at it, extremely confused.

"Either it's a late birthday present or a very early Christmas present." Martha said, handing it over to me.

"What do you think it is?" I asked. She shrugged, urging me to open it. I did, delicately undoing the bow in the ribbon and carefully taking off the paper. The box was white, and the lid had a note stuck to it. Reading it brought a lump to my throat.

_Sorry it's late, it would have been nice if you told me when your birthday was!_

_Happy 'Late' Birthday, _

_Love Blondie. _

_Xxx_

I took off the lid, gasping at what was inside. The blue dress that I was going to wear at the spring dance, which of course I had missed. The dress was wrapped in blue tissue paper, crinkling as I took the dress out and held it out in front of me. Martha gasped at it, touching it with her fingers somewhat lovingly.

"It's beautiful." She murmured.

"I know." I whispered. How could she? I thought she had hated me! But she went behind my back and bought me a dress I specifically told her not to buy. I couldn't help but smile. She was indeed a stubborn bugger. And it made me miss her even more.

"Wait, there's something else in there." Martha said, pointing. I followed her finger, seeing a small silver box. Frowning, put the dress over the back of the sofa and opened the little box. On the inside of the lid was another note, and this one nearly made me cry.

_I miss you._

_P xxx_

And what he had bought me made me want to punch him in the face with annoyance, but also jump into his arms with joy. Inside the box was a silver necklace, a heart hanging at the end of it. It glimmered at me, begging to me worn. When I looked more carefully at it, however, I saw that my name had been carved into the centre of the heart. I hated to think about how much this must have cost him. Martha sighed dreamily at the necklace, making me look at her. She looked at me, smiling, and then she frowned.

"What?" I asked, holding back the choke of pain and happiness.

"Isn't there an end of year dance tomorrow night?" she said, raising a brow at me. My heart accelerated. _God I wish I could hate you, Gwen. _

And, sure enough, I went to the damn dance. How could I _not? _Peter and Gwen had made me want to see them with all my might, just by sending me them gifts for my birthday. And so I slipped into the dress Gwen had gotten me, unable to stop myself from twirling in it. Martha curled my hair and put into a half up and half down style, and she put some slight makeup on my face. She lent me some blue heels, saying that they were too small for her anyway. And, of course, I put on Peter's gift, letting the heart settle in the centre of my chest.

And when I got there, the sports hall was filled with dancing bodies and blaring music. The lights of the disco blinded me, the heat of the dancing bodies hitting me square in the face. I felt a blush run to my cheek when I saw my fellow students' mouths drop, taking in the transformed me. I hurried past them, searching for the only two people I wanted to see. I couldn't deny myself any longer.

_I needed them. _

I found them, standing in the far corner of the hall. Gwen wore that dress she got with me, scanning the crowd as if looking for someone. Peter looked rather dashing in a black suite, his arm around Gwen's waist and also searching through the crowd. And then, simultaneously, their eyes landed on me, and they grinned widely. I edged closer to them, suddenly unsure of myself.

Gwen ran at me and threw her arms around me. "You came! And you look amazing!" she said in my ear over the music.

"I'm gonna kill you!" I yelled back, making her laugh. And then I hugged her back, holding onto her tightly. "I'm sorry-"

"It doesn't matter! You're here!" and released me, looking like a bubbly child. I laughed at her, fighting back the tears in my eyes. Thank god she acted like nothing happened. I knew I could count on Gwen not making a big deal out of something that should have been. She fanned her face, furiously blinking away tears of her own. Before I could comment, she ran off into the crowd, distracting herself and effectively leaving me and Peter alone.

"Hey." He mouthed, smiling as his eyes raked over me. I didn't reply. I just rammed my body into him and flung my arms around him, needing to have him in my arms and six weeks of nothing. And I poured my heart out to him.

"I lied!" I shouted in his ear over the music. "I should never have said those things! I just thought I was doing what was best!"

"I know." He said, his breath hot on my ear and making my skin tingle. And then his mouth was on mine, kissing me furiously. It was the first time we had ever kissed in public, and I couldn't have a care in the world. His kiss took away all the pain, all the nightmares, all the fright. His hands on me made me feel secure, promising me safety I had denied for far too long. He poured everything he felt into our kiss. Pain, anger, relief... love. Hot, passionate love. It we weren't in a room full of people, I was pretty sure I would have lost myself.

He pulled away, brushing my hair out of my eyes.

"I love you." he said in my ear. My heart hammered in my chest, my skin warming with the words.

"I love you, too." I said, kissing him again. When he pulled away again, the way he grinned made my heart flip with nerves. He mouthed the word 'Dance', and I just burst out laughing, shaking my head. He pouted like a child.

"No!" I screamed. Instead, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bodies of dancing people. The song that was currently playing ended, and the room fell silent for a moment.

"Just one dance." He said, raising a brow.

"Fine! Just don't let me fall, okay?" I told him.

"I would never!"

And we danced all night.

That night was one of the best I had had in a long time. But, realistically, I would always be haunted by mom, dad and Rick. I would never escape the nightmares. Maybe they would become less frequent, but they would always be there, waiting to snatch me up when I was least expecting it. But that was what I needed. I would forever need those memories to help me keep going. I wanted to remind myself that I had made it through, and that I would continue to fight life until the very end.

After all, I was Thatcher. Thatchers _never _stopped fighting.

* * *

**Just wanna say think to _every single one of you _who have supported me all the way through this fanfic! You have all made me so so happy, and it has been my pleasure to write this for you guys! For now, time to say good by to the Thatchers! I would never have been able to finish this without your support, and I mean c'mon... OVER 300 REVIEWS! I wish I could write down each and every one of you! So... Thank you thank you thank you!**

**For now, adios!**


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